A New Beginning

by Kevin Ryan

  When the guys approached, Liz said, "He left a pot of

  oatmeal on the hot plate inside. There's plenty."

  Max was surprised. Dan had given a strange teenager a

  job. Then the shower facilities. . . .Though Dan was gruff,

  he'd given them the first real help of their trip.

  Maybe things were looking up in Stonewall after all. As

  * * *

  soon as the thought formed in his mind, Max chided him-

  self. They couldn't afford to get too comfortable anywhere—

  not until they had put a lot more distance between them-

  selves and Roswell.

  Liz leaned into him. He kissed her, and she said, "Bye

  honey, I'm off to work."

  Max smiled. "Be careful. I don't like the look of the

  missing-person signs."

  Under normal circumstances, Liz would casually brush

  off one of his warnings. This time she became thoughtful.

  In fact, the whole group went still. Max knew why. They

  had all seen the signs, but no one had said anything out

  loud yet. They had all seen missing signs before, in

  Roswell and in the larger cities they had visited. But there

  were too many signs for a town this size. Then there was

  the air of... what? . . . tension? . . . fear?

  "Okay," Liz said.

  Max, Kyle, and Michael watched the girls go, then

  headed for the room. Stepping inside the door, Max took

  in the small studio apartment. Well, apartment was a

  strong term for the place. It was one room with a double

  bed, an old kitchen chair, two beanbag chairs held

  together with duct tape, and a tiny sink with a hot plate

  next to it. On the floor was a low shelf that held some old

  toys—robots and dinosaurs—and a small television with a

  coat hanger for an antenna. The walls were covered with

  rock-and-roll posters that Max recognized from the 1960s.

  In fact, the room didn't look like it had been used much

  since then. It was clean, but Max couldn't shake the feeling

  that he was inside a time capsule.

  To the right was an open door that Max could see led to

  * * *

  the small bathroom, which had a stall shower.

  "You first," Michael said. "You're the working man."

  Kyle disappeared into the bathroom, and Michael sat

  down heavily on the bed. "What now, Maxwell?" he said.

  "We stay here and keep a low profile," Max said.

  "But we haven't even begun to scratch the surface of

  things to do in this town," Michael joked.

  "Actually Michael, I think we've seen it all," Max replied.

  "I think you're right," Michael said, smiling.

  Leaning down, Max tried the television. To his surprise,

  it hummed when he turned it on. For a moment he

  smelled something that seemed like burning dust. Then a

  picture flashed on. It was black and white, which made

  sense. The set was old and had dials instead of buttons.

  Getting nothing but static, Max tried every channel on the

  dial. He found two stations that seemed to work.

  "Cable must be out," Michael said dryly.

  Max improved the reception by playing with the coat

  hanger.

  "I vote for cartoons," Michael said.

  "News," Max said. "I want to see if anyone's looking for us."

  "Waiting for special bulletin telling people to be on the

  lookout for three alien-human hybrids?" Michael said.

  "Something more subtle," Max said.

  There was a talk show on one of the channels, and a

  game show on the other. It might be a while. Then some-

  thing on the shelf under the television caught his eye.

  He picked up the pack of cards and started counting.

  "How many?" Michael asked.

  "Fifty-two," Max replied.

  "Things are finally looking up. Your deal, Max."

  * * *

  8

  When they stepped into the diner, Jimmy was already there

  and watching the door, as if he had been waiting for them.

  . By the time they got to the counter, the owner appeared

  and said, "I wasn't sure you girls were coming, but I'm

  glad you did. I'm Bell," she said, extending her hand.

  Liz shook first. "I'm Liz."

  Maria followed. "I'm Maria."

  "And you really have done this before?" Bell asked.

  "Yes," the girls said together.

  "Well, at this point, it wouldn't matter much if you

  hadn't. I really need the help," Bell said.

  Liz noticed that Bell was friendlier and more relaxed

  than yesterday. Maybe the prospect of some help had

  cheered her up.

  "We have to be honest with you," Liz said. "We won't be

  staying long in Stonewall."

  Liz felt Maria's elbow stick in her ribs, but she did not

  want to mislead this woman. Creating bad feelings would

  just raise their profile in town. "We're in town with our

  * * *

  friends and we're trying to earn enough money to fix our

  van," she continued.

  "Your van's at Johnny's?" the woman asked.

  "And we have a friend who's working there," Liz said.

  She wasn't really giving anything away. Liz knew that in a

  small town, keeping secrets was nearly impossible.

  Bell nodded. "Okay, thanks for telling me. For as long as

  you can stay, I'm sure you'll be better than my sister-in-law.

  She's a better wife to my brother than she is a waitress—

  and she's a terrible wife."

  Both Liz and Maria smiled at that.

  "Come on," Bell said, leading them into the kitchen.

  She pointed to a thin, middle-aged man and said, "This

  is my husband, Sam. Sam, these are the new girls, Liz and

  Maria."

  "Nice to meet you," Liz said. Sam nodded and went

  back to cleaning the grill surface.

  "Sam doesn't say much," Bell said as they went back

  outside. "It's the secret of our successful marriage."

  "If Sam needs help, my boyfriend cooks short order,"

  Maria offered.

  Bell shook her head and said, "Sam's okay on his own,

  but thanks. Look girls, if you are going to be short-timing

  it, why don't we just settle up at the end of each day."

  "Great, thanks," Liz said, glad that she had decided to

  tell Bell the truth.

  "You eat free while you're here," Bell said. "Your friends

  can eat... how many of them are there?"

  "Four more," Liz said.

  Bell nodded and said, "They'll get a discount.

  "We've got twenty minutes until we open. Why don't

  * * *

  you find uniforms and aprons in the back? You can't miss

  the bathroom. I saw that you met Jimmy yesterday. Let me

  know if he's bothering you."

  "No, he's fine," Liz said.

  Bell nodded. "He's had a tough time. His sister Jessica

  used to work here." Bell studied them for a moment and

  added, "She's missing."

  "We saw the sign," Maria said. "In fact, we saw more

  than one."

  Bell nodded again, "There's been some trouble. You'll

  notice that people stay off the street. You girls stay together

  when you go out. Or better yet, have your boyfriends

  come get you."

  "What do the police say?" Liz asked.

/>   ."They don't know anything, and the sheriff's . . . gone.

  We don't have a replacement yet. Just be careful," Bell said.

  Liz and Maria headed into the back. A few minutes

  later, they came out in uniforms. Liz found one that fit a

  bit tightly, but was comfortable enough.

  Looking at the clock, she saw that they had about fif-

  teen minutes before they opened. "Is there any side work

  to do?" she asked Bell.

  Bell smiled. "You have done this before. Yes, why don't

  you two fill the sugars and marry the ketchups. Then put

  the clean silverware in the bins and set the tables. I was

  too beat to do it all last night."

  While Liz was filling sugars, Jimmy approached her

  and said, "That's my sister's uniform."

  "Oh, I'm sorry. I can find another one," Liz said.

  Jimmy shook his head. "That's okay. She doesn't need it

  right now."

  * * *

  "I'm sorry about your sister, Jimmy," Liz said.

  "Me too," he said. Then he looked surprised and said,

  "Don't worry about it. I spill stuff all the time."

  "Spill?" Liz said, but Jimmy just shrugged.

  When she turned, she swiped the sugar container she

  had been filling with her hand. It spilled across the counter.

  "Jimmy, how did . . . ?" Liz began, but Jimmy had

  already turned for the kitchen.

  How did Jimmy know that 1 was going to spill something?

  Liz wondered. Further musings were cut short when Bell

  went to the front door and turned the sign around so that

  the OPEN side faced front. There were people waiting out-

  side already.

  A moment later they had filtered in and it was time to

  go to work.

  "War," Michael said, tossing down a card.

  Max started throwing down cards at the same time

  In the end, Michael threw down a Jack face up. Max

  had a five.

  Michael took the next two rounds and got rid of his last

  card, leaving Max with six cards in his hand.

  "I don't have to count them, Maxwell. That wasn't even

  close," Michael said, smiling. "I don't think you are cut out

  for war."

  "I was King, you were the one with the advanced mili-

  tary training," Max said, keeping his voice even and his

  expression neutral.

  "I always knew it would pay off someday," Michael said

  as he shuffled the cards.

  "My deal," Michael said when he was finished. But

  * * *

  before he could deal out the first card, the door opened

  and Isabel stepped inside. He could see something was

  wrong by the look on her face.

  Max was on his feet instantly. "What is it?" he asked.

  Isabel sighed. "Nothing serious, Max, but it looks like

  it's so slow today that they don't need a relief Laundromat

  attendant trainee," she said, sitting on the bed.

  Michael shook his head. "Look at us, three of the Royal

  Four, with incredible alien-powers at our command, and

  none of us have a useful skill. If it wasn't for Maria, Liz,

  and Kyle, we'd be in even more trouble than we are now,"

  he said.

  "You mean more trouble than being stranded in a noth-

  ing town with no money and a broken-down van. We

  wouldn't have even eaten today if it wasn't for the oatmeal

  we lucked into," Isabel said.

  By the time she was done, Isabel's voice was tight. Max

  decided that he had waited long enough. He had wanted

  to do it before, but he didn't want to begin in the van in

  front of all the others.

  Now, Michael was here, but Max knew he had a respon-

  sibility to his sister. "Isabel, do you want to talk about it?" he

  asked.

  She looked at him in surprise for a moment. "I think I

  said it all. Wait, I left out the part about sleeping in a van

  last night."

  Max shook his head. "No, not that." He paused, not

  sure how to begin. Isabel had always had trouble confid-

  ing in him when they were growing up. It had only gotten

  harder lately.

  "About Jesse," Max said finally. With his peripheral

  * * *

  vision, he saw Michael squirm uncomfortably. Isabel gave

  him a slightly stunned look. For a moment she was silent.

  "This wasn't just another breakup. You were married—,"

  Max said.

  "I know I was married!" Isabel exploded. "In fact, I still

  am. It's just that I'm never going to see my husband again."

  She was angry and immediately went red in the face.

  Well, angry—even if it was with him—was better than

  what she could be feeling.

  "I'm sorry, Isabel. I want to help if I can," Max said.

  "Maybe if you talked—"

  "That's the problem, Max. You can't help me," Isabel

  said, her voice tight. "You can't fix this. I left my husband

  and my last chance at escaping all this back in Roswell."

  Max could see that Isabel was near tears. He hadn't

  wanted to upset her, and seeing her so vulnerable unsettled

  him. He had rarely seen her cry, even when they were

  younger.

  "Listen," Michael said, breaking the silence. "What's so

  great about being normal? We've been trying since we got

  out of the pods, and it hasn't worked out so well. And,

  Isabel, Jesse was okay, but he wasn't the one."

  There was dead silence in the room for a long moment.

  Max found himself holding his breath. Isabel looked

  shocked, as if Michael had just thrown cold water in her

  face, or slapped her. Max could see anger, grief, and some-

  thing else colliding on her face. For a second, Max wasn't

  sure if she was going to cry or hit Michael—both options

  looked like an even bet.

  Then, as quickly as the storm of emotions came, it

  seemed to pass. Isabel seemed to deflate in front of them.

  * * *

  She was holding herself together, barely. Max preferred

  seeing her angry. Then she leveled a cool gaze at Max and

  said, "No, I don't want to talk about it right now."

  Isabel got up and seemed on the verge of storming out.

  Then she turned and sat on the floor next to Max. "What

  are you playing?" she asked.

  "Um, war," Michael said, still holding the cards in his

  hands.

  She grabbed the cards from him and said, "Dealers

  choice."

  As she shuffled the cards, Max took in what had just

  happened. He still couldn't believe that Michael had spo-

  ken up; his best friend usually avoided discussion about

  feelings with the same intensity that he guarded their big

  secret.

  Max was equally surprised by how much sense Michael

  had made. They had been trying for their whole lives to be

  normal. It had never worked, and they had all paid a price

  for the failure.

  And Max was even more surprised that Michael had

  said what he had about Jesse. It was true, Max knew. They

  had all sensed it, though they had never talked about it.

  Instead, they had discussed the fact that she was so young,

  and that they were rushing the wedding. But the truth was

  that they had all k
nown the simple truth that no one had

  said out loud until Michael did a minute before.

  Jesse was not the one.

  Even so, Max had no doubt that Isabel had loved him

  and that her pain and grief right now were real. Well,

  maybe she would want to talk about it when a bit more

  time had passed.

  * * *

  If Michael could talk about feelings—and make sense

  doing it—anything was possible.

  Isabel dealt out the cards. Since he was sitting on her

  left, he went first. Max looked levelly at Isabel and said,

  "Seven."

  His sister leveled a steely gaze at him and said, in an

  even voice, "Go fish, Max."

  Liz laid two plates at the first table in her station, smiled,

  and immediately headed behind the counter, where the

  large cutout in the wall led to the kitchen.

  She nearly collided with Maria, who got there a

  moment before she did.

  "Where's my omelette and home fries?" Maria called out.

  Sam grunted from inside the kitchen but passed a plate

  out. Maria took it and was off. For all of her complaining

  about going back to work as a waitress, Maria had settled

  right in at Bell's. Liz found that she had, as well, though

  both girls were frustrated by the fact that they didn't know

  the menu and prices cold. After years at the Crashdown,

  they each could recite the menu forward and backward.

  So they spent a frustrating first hour checking the

  menu before they added up the checks. But they picked it

  up quickly, and now, as the breakfast rush began to taper

  off, Liz could make out most checks from memory. And

  she could see that Maria was doing the same.

  Liz was surprised at how much of a rush the breakfast

  rush had actually been. She wasn't sure the diner would

  keep even one experienced waitress busy, but they both

  had been. And in the beginning, Bell had been pitching in

  as well.

  * * *

  Once the owner had seen that the girls could handle

  the crowd, she had concentrated on seating people and

  working the register. Liz was glad. For one thing, it meant

  that she and Maria would keep all the tips. And while the

  checks were smaller than she was used to at the Crash-

  down, the running total she kept in her head told her that