"Oh."
I turned around at the surprised exclamation, coming upon Max's mother. I briefly glanced at Max (who was standing at the kitchen island, making us some toast), the motion so automatic that I was barely aware of doing it, before saying, "Um, good morning," unintentionally making it sound more like a question than a greeting.
Empathy clawed at my heart as I watched the confusion on Mrs. Evans' face, the tentative glances she was shooting towards her husband, and the mild frown she was giving her son. She looked utterly lost - in her own home.
I watched her slowly pull herself together. But even though she squared her shoulders and worked a smile onto her lips, the manufactured smile was wobbly and her back was shaking. "Liz? What are you doing here?"
And I realized why her reaction resonated with something deep inside me.
She was me.
I felt myself tensing as I mimicked her stance, straightening my body. Even though I didn't really know the story behind how a human Diane ended up with an alien Philip, the woman who had mothered the man I loved had once been where I had been. The details were different, but the premise was the same.
The fear and insecurity I read in her eyes before she tried to hide it, were the same infusing me every time I was on alien territory. Just like the bizarre setting I was currently finding myself in; having breakfast with my hybrid boyfriend (I guess 'boyfriend' was an appropriate term for him right now, after everything) and his alien dad.
"She came with me," Max answered in my place and I felt his eyes touch the back of my head.
'Boyfriend' seemed like such a trivial phrase for what Max meant to me.
Ditto, Max replied in my mind and I actually jumped. His voice was just as clear as when we were touching. But the thing was - we weren't. He was several feet away from me.
I didn't have time to mull over this apparent development to our connection any further as I instead watched Mrs. Evans frown. "For breakfast?"
"Max and Liz had something they needed to discuss with me," Mr. Evans said and I turned my head to look at the man. His expression was - which seemed to be his default - neutral. I looked back at Mrs. Evans who was doing a very poor job at hiding her fear. Compared to her husband, she was everything but neutral.
I frowned, her fear being contagious. Why was she so afraid? Was it of me? For me? Because she had no reason to be afraid in her own house. And it was not like I was a threat.
"Oh?" Mrs. Evans whispered and I couldn't take it anymore.
Her eyes widened in wary anticipation as I stepped up to her, put my arms around her shoulders and hugged her. She was stiff in my embrace, as was expected.
"It's good to see you again, Mrs. Evans," I said, loud enough for the rest of the room to hear me. Lowering my voice, I whispered, for her ears only, "I'm okay. Everything's okay."
My words seemed to relax her and her voice cracked a little as she answered in a normal speaking voice, "It's really nice to see you again too, Liz."
She returned my hug with a tight squeeze and I brushed back the maternal longing it brought out in me and let her out of my arms.
"And please, Liz," she said, her eyes glistening with warmth as I took a step back, "Call me Diane."
I smiled, my warm smile matching hers. "Of course."
Diane hitched her head towards the men in the kitchen. "You're not letting those two make you breakfast, are you?"
"Hey," Max protested. "There's nothing wrong with my breakfast-making abilities."
Diane winked at me, like we were sharing a private joke, and I couldn't help but smile. She was making an effort to blend in with the 'everyday'-setting of the kitchen, even though I could see the fear still remain in the wrinkles around her eyes and how her easiness didn't quite reach the atmosphere around her.
"You do make wonderful pancakes, Max," she admitted.
"That he does," I said, before Max could answer. Even though he was in my mind, I could tell that he was surprised by my forwardness and it was a surprise shared by his mother as she raised her eyebrows in curiosity.
"He's cooked for you?"
I nodded, feeling a blush creep up my cheeks. Damn my bodily reactions!
Max wasn't making it better by throwing me a grin, knowing exactly where my mind had gone. Knowing exactly what memory I would associate pancakes with for the rest of my life.
I felt three sets of eyes on me, making me drop my head to hide the emotions on my face. Max's father must know what we had been up to. Max had insinuated as much when he had told him that we had fully bonded. Catching the contemplative wrinkles crinkling Diane's forehead, I had a feeling that Max's mother was slowly putting two and two together.
If she hadn't, she probably did the second Max walked up to me, placed his hand on my hip, whispered "Breakfast is ready" close to my ear, and let his hand slide along the small of my back before he continued towards the table.
I must have looked as surprised as Max's mother. She looked like she was one step away from having her mouth drop open. I was surprised at how openly Max was touching me in front of his parents.
He really had thrown every caution to the wind. He really was serious about it being the two of us now. No more hiding.
"You want coffee, Di?" Mr. Evans asked when I turned to follow Max towards the table.
"Thank you," Diane answered.
I locked eyes with Max before walking around his back and resuming my seat next to him. Max leaned in and pecked my cheek. A gesture so light and ordinary that my soul vibrated.
"Do you want coffee?" he asked.
I grimaced and suggested, "Tea? I haven't learned to drink coffee yet."
"We have tea," Diane answered. She seemed relieved to have something to do as she walked up to one of the cabinets and pulled out several boxes with different types of tea. "What's your poison? Green? Herbal? Black?"
"Green is fine," I replied politely. Max was watching me, even when I wasn't returning his gaze, his attention keeping the blush on my cheeks fresh.
"Phil, could you turn on the kettle for me?"
I turned away from the conversation between Max's parents and met the almost wistful expression on Max's face.
I smiled at him in mild confusion, still trying to get used to how to sort through his mind to find the thoughts that would answer my questions. "What?"
He returned my smile, shook his head in denial and put a light kiss on my lips. "Nothing."
It was turning out to be very convenient to have a mental connection when you wanted to keep some parts of your conversation secret from people outside of the bond. Like a secret - and silent - language. Something I was just starting to reap the benefits from, when Max continued our conversation telepathically.
What was that with my mom? His mind was tranquil, curiously inquisitive.
I frowned. What do you mean?
He glanced at my lips before he grabbed my hand under the table and gently squeezed it. You had a moment.
I bit my lower lip and brought my free hand down to our laced hands to run my fingers up his knuckles, cradling his much larger hand in both of mine. She was scared for me. Wasn't she?
Max dropped his eyes to my hands. There are some things she doesn't trust about my father. Max looked up at me seriously, his eyes piercing through me. Like whenever it comes to him following the law. She knows that he is very law-abiding and she also knows that you are not supposed to be here. With me.
Which, as far as she knows, could only mean that I was either your prisoner or being played, I filled in.
He nodded and we both startled as Mr. Evans broke through our bubble. "Something I should know about?"
In unison, we whipped our heads towards Mr. Evans, who was now seated opposite us with his wife next to him.
I frowned, feeling like I had temporarily lost the control over the situation. Like I had missed something.
There was a steaming white cup of hot water in front of me, the green paper label dangling off the edge informing me that it was 'Green Dream Tea'.
I looked away from the tea and up at the parents. How long had they been sitting there?
Mr. Evans chuckled good-naturedly and waved our astonishment away with his hand. "Don't worry. I know how one can get caught up in each other's eyes."
Even though my opinions about Max's father were slowly changing, that statement still sounded weird coming out of his mouth. I was calmed by Max's hand giving mine a squeeze.
The confusion was written all over Diane's face as I glanced over at her, and her bottom lip was trembling as she stuttered - after a second of silence, "You bonded with her?"
I looked at Max, felt his need for acceptance vibrate through our connection, and was humbled by the deep sense of confidence. The confidence stemming from the fact that Max was behind this bond between us 100%.
"Yes," he answered slowly and I looked back at Diane to catch all the color drain from her face.
I swallowed back my nervousness. Her reactions kept on rocking the false security I had built up since bonding with Max. She kept rocking the beliefs that everything was going to be okay now - now that we had completely bonded.
Mr. Evans pointed at Max with the corner of his toast, saying simply around a mouthful, "Max bonded with Liz when he healed her burns a couple of weeks ago."
Diane didn't look the least surprised about that revelation, her blue eyes instead searching both my face and Max's for more information. "I knew about that, Philip." Her voice was slow, dazed.
I felt both surprised and not about the fact that no one seemed to have actively told Diane about the healing until now. Because it actually seemed like everyone in the Evans' family had known about Max bonding with me anyway.
Did they really think that Diane wouldn't have figured it out - with all the punishments her son was enduring lately - that something serious was going on? That there was something more than Max just crossing some lines? Obviously she had known this about her son, even though no one had included her in the 'secrets'.
I found it odd that Diane had not been invited into that discussion. Was it because she was human? Did humans never really become an integral part of the community?
Max squeezed my hand, bringing me back from my thoughts to the here and now, alerting me to the fact that he was listening in, just not engaging.
I was taken aback when Max's mother turned to me, rather than her son, and said with deep sorrow in her voice, "Sweetie, do you know what you're getting yourself into?"
I was momentarily stunned to be addressed, but quickly recuperated and nodded slowly. "Yes."
"She's already in this, Mom," Max said, a sharpness to his voice. Sharpened by the bitter truth of my 'destiny'.
Diane slowly shook her head. "Not with you, Max." Her voice dropped lower, turned even sadder, making me shiver. "She's not in this with you, Max."
Love and concern for her flowed through the connection from Max and he said gently, "It's going to be okay, Mom. Everything will be fine."
She started shaking her head, a tear forming at the edge of her bottom eyelid and I felt my world slowly dissolve around me.
"My beautiful baby boy," she mumbled, stricken, and I swallowed, resisting the temptation to cry myself as I looked at Max's profile for guidance.
I could tell that the whole situation was really hard on Max. He felt like he was losing control. He had a fierce urge to convince his mother that he and I were meant to be. That together we could do this. But he was also feeling lost in the worry about his mother's sorrow, not wanting to cause her pain. Knowing that he had already put her through quite a lot of grief over these past weeks.
"Calm down, Diane," Mr. Evans said and took a sip from his cup of coffee. I noticed the flash of concern in Max's father's eyes as he glanced towards his wife. It was gone so quickly that I was sure no one but me had seen it.
Obviously, Diane had missed it.
Anger flashed across her face, before she turned to face her husband. "Don't tell me to calm down, Philip."
I bit the inside of my cheek at the increasing tension in the room, feeling more and more like an intruder in this domestic environment. And a little bit more scared than one would be when faced with a regular family quarrel. Because I had no idea if this was going to stay civil or turn...alien.
"Maybe you should care a bit more," Diane continued and her cheeks were flushed with crimson red as she pointed towards Max, her eyes remaining on Mr. Evans' neutral face. "That's our son over there. And by bonding with this girl-" she pointed to me and I swallowed in the heat from her assigned scrutiny as her eyes flickered to my face, suddenly feeling small and a lot younger than my 16 years, "-you know as well as I do that he might have just signed his own death warrant." She gestured with her whole hand in my direction. "And hers."
Mr. Evans looked perfectly collected as he took another bite of his toast before replying, "And you don't think I've tried to stop this?" I noticed a faint tremble in the hand that was holding the toast.
Why was he intent on keeping his mask of indifference on? Even though he had admitted to having feelings before - when speaking only to Max and I. Even though Diane must know that he was not the cold-hearted person he set out to be.
He looked up at Max and I, and added, in a clean statement, "He's in love." Like that would explain everything.
In a way, I had to admit, it did.
I looked back at Diane, holding my breath for her reaction. I felt like I was watching a tennis match, almost anticipating someone's racket to eventually impact with an explosive ball.
Maybe this is what Max meant when he had accused the pure aliens from lacking emotions. They didn't lack emotions by definition; they couldn't express them properly. They were seriously emotionally handicapped.
My adrenaline was pumping through my veins, while emphatic sadness for Max's mother was making my eyes sting with unshed tears. To top it off, Max's discomfort through the connection was enough to drown me. He hated seeing his mother like this. Hated how his father was handling the situation. Hated how his father wasn't comforting his wife or barely acknowledging her very real fear.
Go to her, my mind told him.
Max looked at me, his eye twitching in the beginning of a frown, and his reluctance to leave my side was deafening.
I'll be fine, I tried to assure him and slowly disentangled our fingers. She needs you more.
He tightened his fingers around mine, to pause the unbraiding I had started, and I waited for him as he looked over at his mother, the fierce protection for her burning through my chest. The next breath got lost in my throat at the shared emotion.
Max finished what I had started - separating our hands - and stood up. His fingers brushed across the top of my shoulder blades in a comfortable muted gesture before he left my side.
Walking up to his mom, he said, "Mom-"
Diane looked up, something in her eyes interrupting him. Fear tumbled through me and my fists tightened in my lap in response.
Max's fear. In response to his mother's behavior.
I had come to really really hate Max's fear. His fear was worse than mine, in a way, because when Max was scared it was usually much more serious.
I had come to realize the guy didn't scare very easily. When he did, it was never a good sign.
"How do you know that you love her?" Diane asked, her voice empty.
I was holding my breath, waiting for Max's answer, experiencing his surprise at her blunt question.
Max slowly crouched down next to her chair, bringing their heads more to the same level while Diane twisted her upper body to the side to face her son. With clarity and undeniable certainty, Max answered, "Because nothing makes sense without her."
I watched as Diane started crying. I watched her head dip forward and her shoulders shake in heartbreaking sobs. I watched how she first pressed a kiss to Max's cheek before pulling him into a tight hug.
I felt her tears hit Max's shoulder, wet the exposed skin of his neck above the neckline of his shirt. I felt her arms around him and how the emotional warmth of the embrace spread through him.
I felt the love. That unconditional, deep, maternal love.
The pressure over my chest startled me, the constriction of my throat alarmed me.
I shot up from the chair, my hands suddenly trembling and I felt like crying. Breaking apart just like Diane was currently doing.
I was aware of Mr. Evans' eyes on me as I stumbled and hit my hip against the table while trying to get my legs to work.
Air. I need air.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Max start to pull away from his mother, his anxiety about the sudden change to my bodily functions ripping through me and adding to the anxiety building in me.
He barely got out a "Liz?" before I waved my hands in his direction, trying to catch oxygen and pull in a breath, "It's fine." I was breathless, gasping. "I just need some air."
The tears I was holding back were burning my eyes and I saw Diane look at me, her face red and blotchy from the tears I was trying to suppress in myself.
No, I thought. Don't get up.
I really didn't want my spectacle to interrupt the moment between Max and his mother. Diane obviously needed her son right now.
But even against my mental objections, Max was obviously paying more attention to my panic than my requested politeness and he was already getting to his feet, gently and cautiously removing his mother's arms from around him while his eyes were transfixed on me.
"Stay with her," I ordered, pressing a hand to my burning chest and moving towards the doorway that would take me out of the kitchen. "I'll be fine."
No! Max objected sharply in my head and I cringed.
To my confusion, while trying to get my legs to work, I watched Mr. Evans rise from his seat and bark an order at Max - who was crossing the floor with the single-minded intention of reaching me, "Stay with your mother, Max."
"Dad..." Max warned in return and grabbed my hand.
The physical connection between us made the restrained tears spill over and flow down my cheeks. Max looked at me in barely contained terror and I could feel him searching through my mind for answers in a way he had never done before.
His concern made him lose his gentleness and my body shook with pained shock as his frantic search through my mind almost imitated that of Sean - edging forcefully into my head.
Then Mr. Evans stepped in between us, gave Max a look I missed and said with such confidence and warmth that even I believed him, "I'll take care of her. You talk to your mother."
Max's eyes flickered to mine in hesitation, the distraction automatically making him ease off on his rummage through my thoughts and feelings. Instead, I could clearly pick up on all the objections he was mentally preparing to give his father on why Max shouldn't hand me over to his father.
But there was also the regretful image of his mother. He was torn. He was not just being torn, but shredded between two people he loved.
I squeezed his hand and managed to pull a deep breath in, a sob hitching at the top of that breath, making his concern tenfold in my mind.
I silently shook my head at him, communicating to not worry, and whispered weakly, "I just need some air."
He was finally realizing the distance that I craved. Understanding that the way to make me feel better was for me to go outside.
Maybe he was even seeing something in me that I myself wasn't understanding yet, because he nodded and whispered, "I love you," before letting go of my hand.
"Let's get you outside," Mr. Evans suggested, his voice gentle and soft.
He didn't touch me, rather took a step away from me to give me space, and gestured towards the doorway with his hand.
With my emotions crumbling around me, I followed Max's alien father towards the front door, Max's feelings for me exploding in every cell of my body and mind.