Dreamwalk

5

Baby-sitting is much easier than I thought it would be.» Max was comfortably leaning back into the Lyleses' plush white leather couch, careful to keep his sock-clad feet off the glass coffee table. «Especially considering that we haven't seen Jason since we got here.»

They had been in the Lyleses' home for well over five hours and hadn't even seen their charge. Every now and again, they thought they heard footsteps above them, but whenever either of them called upstairs, they got no response. At least a toilet had flushed once letting them know that Jason was still alive up there.

«He's got to come down for dinner," Liz said as she looked through the take-out menus Aunt Jackie had left on the kitchen counter for her. «How about pizza?»

«Sounds good to me," Max said, distracted by the silence from the second floor.

«Should we see what Jason wants on it?» Liz asked as she pulled the menu for the pizza parlor out of the pile.

«I think we've played his game long enough.» Max got

up from the couch with a determined look on his face. «Order whatever you want. I'll be down with Jason in a minute.»

Liz watched as Max went upstairs, looking more focused than she had ever seen him-and she had seen him in many intense situations. «First lesson in fatherhood coming up," she said softly to herself.

Outside Jason's bedroom door, Max took a deep breath and prepared himself for whatever it was that was about to happen.

«Jason, this is Liz's friend, Max," he reintroduced himself through the closed door as he banged on it. «We're ordering dinner. Open up.»

«Go to Hell!» the kid yelled back.

Not a great start, Max thought. On the bright side, he finally spoke.

«Look, Jason.» Max decided to take the gentle route. «We haven't even met, and I certainly don't know what's going on, but I'm sure Liz and I have nothing to do with it. Why don't you open the door and we can talk about it?»

Silence.

Okay, new direction.

Max placed his hand over the lock. «Jason, if you don't open this door, I'm coming in.»

«Go ahead," Jason yelled. «It's locked-hey, how'd you do that?» he asked as the door opened.

«A little trick of the baby-sitting trade," Max said cryptically from the now open doorway. «Come downstairs and I might consider showing you some other tricks.»

Intrigued, and lacking any other option, Jason got up and stormed out of the room.

Max followed as the twelve-year-old made his way downstairs. Jason seemed somewhat tall for his age and rather pale considering he lived in a desert. He had a shock of black hair that Max figured must have come from his father, since his mother's hair was light brown. Although she could have had it colored, he supposed.

Jason's clothes matched his hair, as he was outfitted in black from head to toe in a T-shirt and jeans that had obviously been bought for him when he was a few pounds heavier, since the clothes hung rather loosely on his body. Max knew from past experience what a crazy time period this was in a boy's life, and attributed the almost intensely skinny body to changes that Jason was probably undergoing. He was an attractive kid, and Max thought that once Jason's body got through this tumultuous period he would probably have a number of girls interested in him.

Liz came out from the living room when she heard footsteps plodding down the stairs. She tried to keep her excitement in check, considering how rude he had been to ignore her for so long. «Jason, it's good to finally see you.»

«What's for dinner?» was his short response.

«We haven't seen each other in over two years and all you have to say is, 'What's for dinner?»' Liz was visibly hurt by the boy's abrupt manner.

Max noticed that Jason seemed to be sorry for his rudeness, but only for a moment. The stone face of resolve quickly went back up as he chose to remain silent. Max figured he was like most preteens and was probably just angry at the world for no particular reason. Since he hadn't even truly met the boy, he wasn't going to take any of it personally, but he wished he could say the same for

Liz, who appeared to be more than a little hurt by her young friend's attitude.

«We're getting pizza," Max spoke as abruptly as Jason had, then took Liz by the arm to guide her back into the living room.

«What are we doing?» she whispered.

«Ignoring him," Max replied, also in a whisper. «Don't worry, he'll follow.»

Then they heard the front door slam shut.

«Time for a new plan," Liz said as she hurried back into the hall and flung the door open. «Jason, freeze!»

He had only gotten a few steps away from the house when Liz's voice stopped him cold. With shoulders slumped, his back was still to her, but she had definitely gotten his attention.

Max came up behind her to watch what she was doing and provide backup if necessary. But her body language told him that, for the moment, his assistance was not required.

«In the house," she said in one of the most firm tones of voice Max had ever heard her use, «now!»

«You don't have to talk to me like I'm a baby," Jason moped as he came back into his home.

«Then stop acting like one," Liz replied, shutting the door behind them.

Jason sulked into the living room and deposited himself on the couch. Max and Liz followed and took seats on either side of the boy. They sat in total silence until the pizza came.

Max paid the delivery guy while Liz brought the pizza into the dining room. They had wanted to just relax and

eat while watching TV, but one look at the pristine living room convinced them that sitting at a table would be their best option. So, instead of the random noises of whatever was on the tube, the three of them settled in for a very quiet dinner.

Forty miles away in Michael's apartment, another dinner was taking place with an even greater amount of hostile silence. A meal carried out with equal amounts of anger and absolute quiet was in itself an art form, one at which Maria and Michael had become masters.

It had started when Michael had placed on his plate the piece of lemon chicken that Maria had prepared. A scrape of the fork against the ceramic dish evoked a dirty look from Maria as she assumed it had been an intentional message aimed at her. She answered with an abrupt clink of her own fork onto her plate, clearly indicating that he should have let her serve herself first considering that she was not only the cook but the only lady present and it was the gentlemanly thing to do. Michael only glanced up briefly as he continued to ignore her.

The meal progressed to the next phase with the passing of side dishes. First, Maria took a small helping of her world-famous string bean casserole and placed the bowl down on Michael's side of the table, but not into his waiting hands. She made sure it landed with a definite thud. Michael countered by taking a heaping spoonful and plopping the casserole onto his plate, spilling some of it onto the table. Maria rolled her eyes at his gluttony.

Then came the passing of the rolls. Both participants reached to the center of the table for the bread at the same

time, grabbing their own pieces while their hands momentarily grazed each other. There was a bit of hesitation as they looked into each other's eyes and knew that they were both tempted to take their rolls and use them as projectiles to be launched at each other. However, the possibility of a harmlessly flirtatious food fight was the furthest thing from their minds as they considered the hot buttered weapons.

«You didn't have to come if you were going to be in a mood.» Michael slammed his roll onto his plate to punctuate his statement.

«Oh, no.» Maria tore into her own roll with a vicious-ness rarely seen outside of the jungle. «I promised a week ago to make you dinner. I don't want it to look like I don't honor my commitments.»

«Are you trying to make some kind of point?» he asked.

Maria couldn't help but think that her boyfriend was clueless. «Nope. No point at all. I'm just sitting here having a wonderfully prepared meal.»

More hostile silence as they continued to eat.

Progressing beyond the scraping of forks, Michael took their conflict to the next level by chewing with his mouth open, although the action was most likely unintentional. Even so, Maria shot him a look of disgust before pointing her fork toward his mouth in a threatening manner. Understanding her meaning, Michael closed his mouth, taking each bite with precise care.

«Why couldn't you do anything at Alex's memorial?» Maria asked suddenly, cutting into the silent meal.

Michael swallowed the piece of chicken he was chewing with his mouth closed. «I cooked.»

«And a meal prepared by you is always a creative endeavor.» Maria shifted the food around on her plate. «Why couldn't you perform something?»

«What? Sing along with the band?» he replied sarcastically. «Are you insane?»

«Obviously," she said, taking a bite of her roll, contemplating her response as she chewed. «You could have done the skit with Max and Isabel.»

«I'm not a comedian," he replied.

«You're telling me.»

More silence.

Food was being pushed around on both plates as Michael and Maria apparently gave up on the meal altogether.

«What is it with this quiet loner routine?» Maria asked.

«What routine?» he said. «It's who I am. Sorry if I can't do tricks for you. I'm not a trained dog.»

«Pity," she replied.

«And what's with you?» He changed his position from defense to offense. «Why can't you just accept me for who I am and stop trying to change me?»

«Gee, I wonder," she replied sarcastically.

«You always have to be so condescending!» he said.

The meal had been forgotten, and the hostile silence had evolved into hostile debate.

«Because you're always so impossible," she shot back, standing up. «I don't know why I even came here.»

«Finally, something we agree on.» He rose so quickly that his chair fell behind him.

«Oh no, don't get up," she said, although he was already standing. «No need to develop manners now. I can see myself out.»

«Fine," he said, righting his chair to sit back down.

She looked at him like she was surprised he actually wasn't going to show her to the door. «Good-bye!»

«See ya," he replied from the chair.

Maria slammed the door shut behind her, pausing outside to take a few deep breaths. Unscrewing her bottle of relaxing cedar oil, she spilled a few drops under her tongue.

On the other side of the door, Michael was also huffing intensely, trying to calm himself. He looked at the remains of the partially uneaten meals on the table before setting his eyes on his kitchen counter, where he saw the chocolate cream pie that Maria had left behind.

Suddenly, his door swung open again as Maria came storming back inside.

«I forgot the dessert.» She grabbed the pie from the counter and made her way back to the door.

Michael considered stopping her, if only to get back the pie, but he stayed in the chair. The door slammed even louder the second time she left. Waiting, Michael eventually accepted the fact that she was not going to return again.

Finally getting off the chair, Michael contemplated clearing the dishes, but put them off for the moment as his thoughts were elsewhere. Making his way across the room, he opened the closet, throwing assorted items out onto the floor as he reached along the back wall. Settling his hands on the large object he had been searching for, he pulled it out, careful not to let the cover slip off. He had been so cautious when he had put the item safely away weeks ago that he didn't want to do any damage to it now since he finally felt ready to see it once again.

Kyle slid the Men in Blackberry Pie to the middle of the table so they could share.

Isabel slid it right back in front of him. «I think I've had more than enough junk food today," she said, although she was staring longingly at the dessert.

«There's no such thing as too much junk food," he replied through a mouthful of the pie.

«Root beer floats at lunch, candy apples at the zoo, milk shakes before dinner," she said, listing just some of the snacking they had done during their day out, making a mental note to ask Jesse to spend some of their Saturday together walking around the entire perimeter of Roswell. «How can you still be eating?»

«Football season's just around the corner.» He tore another piece of the pie away with his fork. «I've got to bulk up.»

Oh, to be a guy, she thought. Then, she finally gave in and reached across the table to take a bite of her own. «We've been avoiding what happened outside.»

«I'm glad your parents didn't mind you missing dinner with them," he said, deflecting her comment.

Isabel's thoughts flashed back to Jesse for a moment, since he was really the one she'd cancelled on. «And you're still avoiding the subject.»

«What do you want me to say?» he asked, picking the remains of the pie apart with his fork. «I've had a great time today, but did you really think that one afternoon full of activities was going to erase those horrible images from my mind?»

«I was hoping to at least distract you for a while," she answered softly.

«And you did," he honestly replied. «But you know there's only one way to get rid of them for good.»

«No, Kyle," she said firmly. «I can't dreamwalk you to remove the memories. It's too dangerous.»

«More dangerous than my meltdown outside?» His fingers were tapping on the plate again, every now and again dropping into the pie. «What if that happens while I'm driving?»

«We should talk to Max about it when he gets back," Isabel said. «Maybe he'll have an idea.»

«And until then I should just stay at home locked in my room?» Kyle asked. «I've already been told to take time off from work," he reminded her. «This is beginning to interfere with my life.»

Isabel didn't want to fight with him, especially considering the agitated state he was already in. She tried to keep herself calm, even though he was getting a little unsettled. «I wish I had the answers, Kyle, but I don't.»

«Yes, you do," he pushed.

Their eyes locked as Kyle pleaded with her to do what she knew she could not. She had already lost one friend to alien mind games; she was not going to lose another.

Finally, Kyle relented. His body sank back into the booth. «I'm sorry. I know it's dangerous. I'm just under a lot of stress.»

«I know," she replied. «And I want to help, but I'm just afraid.»

«Do you want the last bite?» He referred to the pie, although the remnants had been mashed into oblivion.

«I think you managed to put it out of its misery," she replied.

«Lucky pie," he joked.

«Come on, Kyle.» She got out of the booth. «The night is still young. To paraphrase the poem Liz read the other night, we've got miles to go before you sleep.» She put her hand out to him in friendship.

Rejuvenated, Kyle slid out from the booth and took her hand.

Isabel led him through the Crashdown and out into the street. The night ahead of them, she was determined to do whatever she could to keep his mind off his problems. All the while, she was beginning to question her decision not to dreamwalk him as the phrase kept repeating in her head, miles to go before you sleep.