Dreamwalk

7

Hours later, when most people in both Artesia and Roswell were asleep, there was a loud knocking on Michael Guerin's apartment door. Maria knew that he was home and was not at all happy about how she had left their dinner earlier. Now, she was back to put an end to their fight once and for all.

If Michael would only answer the door.

«Who is it?» he groggily shouted.

«It's me," Maria answered back with a much lighter tone than the last time she was at his door. «Who else would be knocking at two A.M.?»

«Around here? It could be anyone," his muffled voice said.

«Can't argue with that," she conceded, still staring at the closed door. «Are you planning on letting me in?»

«I'm thinking about it," he said, finally opening the door for her.

«Look, I'm here to apologize.» She pushed past him and entered the still darkened apartment. Luckily she was familiar enough with the place that she could make her

way around without getting hurt. Far be it for him to turn on a light for me.

«Apology accepted.» He stumbled over to his couch. «Couldn't you have done that over the phone?»

Maria turned on a lamp so she could see, temporarily blinding Michael, which she saw as a minor victory in passive aggression. «No, because I need to explain why I'm apologizing.»

«Because you were wrong.» Michael was always great at cutting right to the chase in any situation. He reached over to turn off the bright light, taking his own little victory from her.

Maria counted to ten and resigned herself to the fact that this discussion was going to be held by the moonlight coming through the window. «I am willing to accept that I was wrong to assume that you would be comfortable performing in front of people.»

«Thank you," Michael said. «Can I go back to sleep?»

«But," she continued, «you should have asked for help.»

Michael knew that she wasn't going anywhere until she got out what she had come to say. She was persistent like that. Of course, he certainly wasn't going to make it easy for her. «Help doing what?»

«Coming out of your shell," she said, joining him on the couch. «You're always so contained… so secretive. You need to bust out more. You don't even belong to any clubs at school.»

«I'm not really a joiner," he replied.

«Well, then, it's a good thing you're going out with me.» She slapped him on the knee to accentuate her statement.

«That's not the only good thing," he mumbled.

«Funny," she replied, swatting his hand away.

«So, where is this going exactly?»

Even in the darkness, her face could easily be seen beaming with excitement. «I'm going to teach you to sing!»

And for what was definitely one of the rarest occurrences in the life of Michael Guerin, he actually laughed out loud. In fact, he nearly fell off the couch because he was laughing so hard. It was easy to tell that it wasn't genuine laughter, but Maria tried to ignore his inconsiderate response.

She continued, undaunted by his reaction. «No, listen. I'll teach you to sing, and maybe we could even front Alex's old band together.»

«And then I could join the school choir," Michael said derisively, «and we could be the leads in the school play. I hear they're talking about doing West Side Story next year. I could totally see you as Maria… Maria.»

Maria immediately realized how ludicrous her own idea sounded when she said it out loud. Funny how it all worked well in my head. But she was not ready to give up. «Okay, what about sports? Something to get you out in front of people. Do you know that hardly anyone at school even knows who you are?»

«Yes," Michael replied. «That's how I like it. It takes a hell of a lot of work to be as invisible as I've made myself.»

«There's a difference between invisible and nonexistent," she replied.

To Maria, who intended to spend the rest of her life performing in front of others, either idea was an unheard-of concept. As such, she completely ignored him. If Danny could change for Sandy in Grease, then you can certainly

change for me. She knew enough not to say that to him, but she certainly thought it. And why has this conversation suddenly become about musicals?

She continued to push. «Come on, there has to be something you're good at.»

Leaning back into the couch, he closed his eyes, apparently giving up on the conversation. However, Maria had no intention of ending things without helping him find a way to focus his energy. She obviously knew what was better for him than he did.

Since she expected to be there a while, Maria turned on the light once again, blocking the switch so he could not turn it off. This time, she noticed something that looked as if it had been quickly stashed in the corner with a sheet loosely covering it. So that's why it took so long for him to open the door. Getting up from the couch, she walked over to the mysterious object.

«What are you doing?» His eyes were now wide open, and he was off the couch.

She pulled at the cover the same moment he grabbed her arm, but it was too late. The masking fell to the floor, and Maria found what he had been hiding.

It was a painting.

It was beautiful.

«Who did this?» she asked, picking it up. Looking around the room, she pulled a chair over to the couch and leaned the painting on it. While she was up, she also turned on another light to get a better look.

The painting looked to Maria like some kind of abstract… or Impressionist piece. If she had ever paid attention in art class, she would have been better versed as

to whether either of those terms were even remotely correct ways to refer to the work. But that didn't matter. Whoever had painted it had known just the right way to evoke emotion through the use of color combinations.

The blue background had slashes of red cut through it, and gray streaks ran through the top of the painting, giving the impression of a coming storm. But, down in the lower right-hand corner, there was a small dab of the brightest yellow. It almost looked to Maria like a flower struggling to emerge.

The effect of the painting left Maria feeling both sad and angry at the same time-a feeling that she had felt a lot over the past few months. But there was something more… a feeling of hope. In fact, these were the exact same feelings she had experienced when she sang at Alex's funeral. She remembered that because she had felt something similar the other night during the memorial celebration at the Crashdown.

«You painted this," she said with shock in her voice. «But I thought you only cared about art when you were drawing that geodesic dome thing sophomore year.»

«I did.» Michael joined Maria as she admired the painting. «But when I heard you singing at Alex's funeral, this is how it made me feel. After we had the big fight following the service, I stopped off at the art store on the way home for supplies and did this. I just needed to.»

«And you've been keeping this hidden for months," Maria said.

«I wasn't ready for anyone to see it.»

He had managed to do it again. No matter how high or low her expectations, Michael always found a way to blow

them out of the water. She wondered if there was ever going to be a time when he couldn't surprise her.

And she hoped that time would never come.

«I'm sorry," she whispered.

«You already said that.»

«No," she clarified. «I mean, I'm sorry I keep trying to change you. I love you for who you are, Michael Guerin. You may have been genetically engineered to be a soldier, but you have the soul of an artist.»

Maria pulled him down on the couch beside her as she stared at the painting. The longer she looked at it, the more she saw and felt. She was amazed that it evoked the same feelings she had hoped her own singing would elicit from others. Hugging Michael to her body, she felt closer to him than she had since the day he chose to remain on Earth for her.