Dreamwalk r-3

by Paul Ruoitis

  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.

  8

  As Michael and Maria fell asleep in each other'
s arms admiring the artwork, Isabel was busy fighting off sleep at the Valenti home as she continued her incredibly long day-and night-with Kyle. Board games, cards, and movies had filled the hours since they had added dinner to their milk shakes at the Crashdown. Isabel had called her parents to let them know that she was safe and would be out late as her intention was to stay with Kyle until he was tired enough to fall asleep on his own.

  Isabel was relieved that he had only suffered a few minor flashes throughout the evening, with none of them even coming close to the episode outside the Crashdown when he thought he had seen Alex's car. His fingers continued to drum softly as the two of them watched the credits role on some Jean-Claude Van Damme movie that was on one of the late-night basic cable channels. Even after sitting through the entire movie, she still couldn't think of the title, which was a statement as to how interested she had been in the film. Needless to say, it had not

  been Isabel's first choice of things to watch, but she'd reminded herself that she was there for Kyle. Besides, she had found other ways to keep herself busy.

  Checking her watch, Isabel confirmed that it was two thirty in the morning, and wondered when it would be okay to leave. Kyle was looking rather drowsy, but she wasn't entirely sure that he was finally ready to fall asleep. She had been waiting for him to send her home, but as yet that hadn't happened. If she was going to get up in the morning to go out with Jesse, she was going to need to get at least a couple hours of sleep. Again, she consulted her watch to see that thirty full seconds had passed since she'd last checked the time.

  She placed yet another playing card on the rapidly growing structure in front of her. To occupy the slowly moving seconds, she had been constructing a house of cards on the coffee table for the last half hour of the movie. The building was beginning to look quite grand since the design already boasted several levels as well as a few different wings and what appeared to be an Olympic-size swimming pool built to scale. Of course, it would have been more inspiring if she hadn't been using her powers to hold it all together.

  «Do you have another deck of cards?» she asked, admiring her architectural accomplishment. «I'm about to run out.»

  «I think you've done enough," he replied. «If that thing gets any bigger, we're going to need to get a zoning permit.»

  Two headlights flashed through the living room window as a car, presumably belonging to Kyle's dad, pulled into the driveway.

  «Your dad's out pretty late," Isabel said, hoping that he would take the hint and send her home. She felt guilty for the thought the moment it had passed through her mind.

  «He's been doing that a lot over the past few days," he replied sleepily, leaning against the arm of the couch. «At first, I thought he had gotten a new job, but he hasn't said anything. He just keeps disappearing a lot, and when he comes home, he's always humming.»

  «Humming?» she thought about that for a moment. «You know, he was pretty good when he sang with Alex's band the other night. I was quite impressed. And now that I think of it, so was Maria's mom.»

  «Please, don't remind me," Kyle replied. «I'm just happy I'll never have to witness my father doing a gig with a band ever again. And the less we talk about my dad and Ms. DeLuca, the better.»

  Jim Valenti entered the house not only humming, but also looking happier than Isabel had seen him in a long time. There was even a bit of a bounce in the way he was walking, like he was moving to the beat of the song in his head. His mind was definitely still back on whatever he had been doing, since he made it halfway into the living room before he realized that he wasn't alone.

  «Oh, kids… hey.» He stopped short as he passed the couch. «Isabel, what are you doing here at this hour?» Checking his watch, there was a sharp change in his mood. «Is something wrong? Where's Max? Did something happen?»

  «Dad, relax," Kyle said from the couch. «Everything's fine. We're just hanging out, watching movies, and building a miniature metropolis out of cards.»

  Valenti was visibly relieved. «Sorry. It's been a pretty quiet week around here, considering. And I get a little nervous waiting for the next thing to happen.» Then he saw the structure that was quickly overtaking his coffee table. «I assume that's your handiwork, Isabel.»

  She nodded but was confused to hear Kyle's father act like nothing was going on, especially considering that his son had obviously been in a lot of pain over the past few days and even weeks. She looked over at Kyle and decided to test the waters. «I know what you mean about being tense. I was finally beginning to relax until this afternoon.»

  «What happened?» the senior Valenti took the bait.

  «Nothing," Kyle stressed in a way that Isabel got the clear message he was sending her to keep quiet. «Nothing but a little paranoia. We thought someone was following us, but it turned out to be a mistake.»

  «Are you sure?» His father's concern did not subside. «Do you want me to look into it tomorrow?»

  For reasons she did not entirely understand, Isabel decided to go along with the entirely fictitious story. «Really it was nothing more than my imagination," she said. Then she looked at Kyle pointedly, adding, «I feel silly for even mentioning it.»

  «Yeah, well, you can never be too safe.» Valenti yawned «Sorry. It's been a long night. I should get to bed.» He looked at the teens sitting comfortably on the couch and he fell into parental mode. «Will you be getting to bed soon, son?»

  «I hope so," he mumbled in response.

  «And you, Isabel?» Valenti added in a voice somewhere between stern and lighthearted. «In your own bed, I hope?»

  «Dad!» Kyle was shocked and embarrassed by what his father was implying.

  Isabel laughed at Kyle's discomfort. Then she blushed because of her own self-consciousness, and the break in her concentration sent the house of cards falling to the ground in pieces.

  «Well, it looks like my work here is done.» Valenti was pleased with himself for his joke having gotten the reaction he had hoped for. «I was just asking a simple question. You know, my father never would have let me have an attractive girl in the house alone at all hours in the morning.»

  «Good night, Dad!» Kyle insisted.

  "'Night, kids," Valenti replied, and Isabel saw a mischievous smirk on his face.

  «Good night," she said, her facial coloring returning to normal as he left the room. Sliding off the couch, she began to pick up the forty-odd cards that were scattered about the floor.

  «I'm sorry.» Kyle joined her on the ground, apologizing as if he had any control over the words that had come out of his dad's mouth.

  Isabel could understand why his father might think something was up. By all appearances, they were the only pair not currently attached to anyone in their incestuous group. She had never really been interested in more than friendship with Kyle, but that's not to say she hadn't on occasion contemplated the possibility. At times, she kind of felt sorry for him, considering his bad luck with women. First Max had taken Liz from him, and later Max kind of took Tess as well. Then again, maybe it's not bad luck, she thought. Maybe it's just my brother.

  At any rate, nothing was going on between them, and she figured nothing ever would. She had managed to find someone outside of the group and was having a good time dating Jesse Ramirez, thinking that it could turn into something more serious and hoping it would.

  Once she confirmed that the door to Valenti's room had been firmly shut, Isabel returned to the crisis at hand. «Why haven't you told your father about the dreams?» she whispered, putting her cards back in the box.

  «I don't want to worry him.» Kyle kept his voice low as well.

  «Kyle, he's your dad. It's his job to worry about you.»

  «I know.» He handed Isabel the cards he collected so she could put them away with the others.

  Isabel could hear the inaudible «but» hanging in the air. «Go on.»

  «I'm not the only one he worries about," Kyle reluctantly admitted. «Look at what happened when he walked in the door.
The first thing he thought was that something was wrong with you or Max, and he was ready to spring into action. He spends so much time worrying about all of us surviving real threats that I don't need to bother him just because I've had a few sleepless nights.»

  «What you're going through is more than a touch of insomnia," she reminded him. «But, I understand.» And she did. In a way, Valenti had become a surrogate father to the entire group since he was the only adult they had let in on the secret. As such, his concerns for his son had to be split with those for Max, Michael, Liz, Maria, and herself. Great, she thought. Not only did we introduce Kyle to all this craziness, but we stole his father from him as well.

  She tried to push that last thought out of her mind so that her guilt didn't taint any decisions that she suspected she was about to make. The more she thought over Kyle's situation, the more motivated she felt to do something about it.

  Crawling back onto the couch, Kyle let out a gaping yawn as his whole body seemed to drag. Isabel suspected that he must have been exhausted since he'd hardly gotten any sleep at all in the past week. She hoped that tonight would break the cycle, and that rest would come soon.

  «Do you think you're ready for bed?»

  «No," he answered honestly. «I'm not ready, but I'm going to have to try. Besides, I'm not going to make you stay up all night.»

  «I can stay here until you're out," she offered.

  «That's okay," he replied, yawning. «I think I'll be fine.»

  Isabel stood, and Kyle started to rise as well. «No, don't get up.» She noticed that he looked like he was about to fall asleep right there, and didn't want him to move. «Just curl up on the couch.»

  «Okay.» He did exactly as she said.

  As Isabel made her way to the door, she paused to look back at Kyle. His eyes were drooping, but every time the lids made contact, they kept popping back open. He was so tired, however, that he didn't even notice she was still in the room, which allowed her to stay a few minutes longer to watch. Gradually, his eyes would stay closed for longer increments of time until they finally appeared to shut for good.