|posted on 26-Sep-2001 2:06:47 PM|
Category: M/L, maybe future fic?, all CCs
Summary: Dum dee dum....I don’t no whether I’m going to continue this or not...It all depends on your feedback.
Disclaimer: First of all, the title was taken from one of Alanis Morissette’s cds, Jagged Little Pill. YEAH! That cd kicks ⊕ss! Anyway onto the Roswell disses (jk)- I don’t own these characters...yeah...right...I think you know what I mean...yay for originality.....oh yeah...no in- fridge -ment intended. There. I said it, okay? I won’t steal your refrigerator. Happy now? Great, go away.
Also...All of the songs I use in this story will probably be by either Tori Amos, Alanis Morissette, or Sarah McLachlan. They are the BEST! Anyway, they write their own songs (though Glen Ballard sets Alanis’s words to music.) If I use anybody else’s songs, I’ll add credits.
Author’s Notes: HEY!!! LOOK DOWN HERE! IT’S IMPORTANT! Ok, I need you to enter the world of make-believe for me. I hate doing this, but it’s the only way it works. Personally, I think this is a really bad idea, but I still need to do it. So here it goes- I know that this will mess up the plots of some of the Roswell epis- I.e. Isabel going off to college- but I need you to imagine that the whole Season Two (Eckk! I just hate saying it!) happened during their sophomore year. I know that that would mean that Max healed Liz when they were freshmen, but just work with me here, ok? Also, lower the ages of the Roswell gang too. This means that Isabel would have turned seventeen instead of eighteen. Thanks.
They all stood there, unsure of what to do next. Liz was vaguely aware of Max saying something to her, while softly squeezing her hand. Years later, she would still hear those words in her mind, taunting her to a point of no return. What was it? Oh yes... I've been really wrong about a lot. But I was right about one thing: To get you into my life, to be around you, to love you.’
Slowly, her mind registered what he had said, and her face turned up towards the man in front of her, her countenance full of disbelief. She tried to move away from him, but she was frozen by the incredulity that he could be so self-absorbed as to believe that she would take him back with open arms now that the mother of his child was gone.
It was obvious that the once love of her life had taken the expression on her face as one of hope, one that said that she believed him in that every thing was going to be okay, for he smiled down at her and gave her hand another squeeze before answering the question that Isabel had just brought forth. “I have to save my son.”
“No, Max” Isabel said, causing her brother to return his attention back to her. “We have to save your son,” she told him, looking around the group for support. “You’re not in this alone. We’re your family. Families help each other out.” Max looked at the ground, then back at his sister, his eyes wet with the hope of a new start, and he moved forward to take his sister up in a embrace.
Liz was in her own world as they spoke, but the meaning of the words still sunk in.
We have to save your son.
You’re not in this alone.
Not in this alone.
In this alone.
We’re your family.
Families help each other out.
Help each other out.
Help each other.
The words pounded on her brain, making her dizzy and light-headed, setting her off balance. Her vision became distorted under the pressure on her mind; she almost fell to the ground in submission to the pain; to the confusion.
We have to save your son.
Who was this We?
You’re not in this alone.
No, of course not.
Why would you even think that? You’ve always been there for any of us. You’ve always helped us investigate any theories, any suspicions, that we’ve ever had. I can’t think of any example when you didn’t believe us, or at least help us out...Oh wait- Alex’s death. How could we forget so soon?
We’re your family.
Ah, yes, your family. Does that mean I’ve been disowned?
Families help each other out.
Right. Of course, in this case it’s sort of unique agreement- Humans help aliens out. Aliens yell at humans. Humans help out aliens. Aliens walk over humans.
Through all of these thoughts, Liz had been unconsciously holding her breath, and suddenly it occurred to her that the dizziness and distortion was probably being caused by the lack of oxygen. About to faint, she took a huge gasp of air, causing the rest of the group to turn and look at her.
“Are you all right Liz?” Maria asked, giving her friend a once-over with her eyes to make sure that she looked physically well.
“Liz?” Max asked as he moved to be her. He looked into her eyes, as though they would tell him what was wrong, as they once used to; but instead, the young woman in front of him’s eyes just looked through his, not seeing him. Unseeing. Uncaring. UnLiz.
And then he realized. This was not the girl he’d known last year, carefree and just happy to be alive. This was a young woman. Not even a young woman. This was a woman. Wise beyond her years, weighed down with secrets, worries, and dangers. A woman who had gone through more pain and suffering than most people would in
their entire life.
And it was all because of him. It was his fault. He had put her through all of this. It was his fault. Again. And for neither the first nor the last time, he wondered if all of them would have been better off if he had never healed Liz Parker. Certainly Alex would have. But for the first time, Max did not respond no so immediately to the question in his mind.
Hailey Robins woke up in her hotel room to the annoying ring of the telephone. Picking it up, she received a “Ms. Robins, this is your 4:30 wake up call,” and moaning a thank you, she set it back down on its hook. She didn’t have much time to get ready; the room would be filled with her assistants soon, and she needed to be awake to discuss the day’s plans with them.
Remembering the previous night’s dream, she proceeded to analyze it as she put on her robe and made her way to the bathroom. She had had the same dream for the previous year and a half now, starting on her eighteenth birthday. They were always the same: a little girl and boy playing together; brother and sister. But one thing was decisively clear to her. She was that little girl.
She had grown up in a world where she had learned to trust her senses. Betray them for a moment and it could be the end. Not just for you, but for the entire world. And so somehow, she knew that there really was a boy out there, her brother, waiting for her to find him. In her dreams, she felt as though she had known him her entire life. But not just the life she was leading now.
She had believed in reincarnation for some time before she drew that conclusion, so the concept wasn’t new to her. Maybe she had lived before. Maybe she had been that little girl. Maybe in her previous life, she had been that little boy’s sister. But if she had come back to life, would that mean that he had as well? Or would she spend the rest of her life feeling as though she were missing a part of her soul, a part of what made her her.
But that would all have to wait. She could already hear the knocks on her door, a sign that her staff had arrived.
Later that day
She had just found out today. Four Grammy nominations. Including Best Female Artist. She should be thrilled. She should be happy. She should be with her friends, her family. But she had left all of those behind, years ago. There was no one to be glad with, no one to celebrate with. Only those who worked for her who would gain prestige if she won. They were happy. But only for themselves.
She hadn’t meant for this to happen. But then, did anybody? The only difference was, she had never wanted this to happen. She had never had dreams of this, only nightmares. And unlike all of those big time stars who said that they were only doing what they liked, that they had never guessed that it would turn out like this, she really meant it.
She had only started in a club, one night a week, a part time job to help her pay off the apartment, along with her job at the two restaurants she worked at; one early in the morning before school, the other immediately after school had let out.
School. That had been one thing she had been insistant on. She had known that she wouldn’t be going to college, but she knew that a high school education was important. People would think more of her if she had a high school diploma. And so she did. Thanks to all of her hard work, thanks to all of the nights she stayed up past midnight after work to finish studying. And people had thought more of her.
She hadn’t started singing for fun. It was, as said, just a way to earn extra money. But she had never thought that it would go this far. But isn’t that what all the stars said? She had always been told that she had a terrible voice. At some point, people had realized that by telling her her singing was lovely, they were encouraging her to continue. And so she hadn’t sung.
For years, she had simply hummed along to the melody of a song, or just joked her way out of it. But in that way, people never heard her sing. Not her parents, not her closest friends. She had always thought that it was for the better, but a voice can change drastically from one’s childhood to their adulthood. And that was what had happened to her's.
She was closing the restaurant where she worked one night, and thinking that she was alone in the building, it became one of those rare moments when she allowed herself to sing along to the radio. But she had not been alone. The cook had been washing dishes and had heard her singing. She was mortified and certain that he was making fun of her when he suggested a club he knew of that had an open mike night. But he hadn’t been joking.
So she had gone to the club. And they had loved her. That night she secured a gig for one night each week for the next few months. She sang, and they loved her. It was as simple as that. But the whole time, she kept on telling herself that it shouldn’t be her up there.
Hailey stepped out of the recording room, smiling at the people she passed on the way. Her body guards directed her to a back exit, where the crowds of people surrounding the building would be less dense. She walked out the door, smiling and waving at the throng of people.
She loved the fact that people liked her music, but she wished that it wouldn’t result in this. Unlike some stars, she didn’t appreciate all the attention she got. She missed the privacy she once had as a small town girl, and no amount of money in the world could make up for what her fame had cost her.
She had never felt comfortable singing when she was in the clubs. It wasn’t her. She didn’t like singing about boy friends or her lost innocence. She didn’t like it because it wasn’t her. For one thing, she still had her innocence.
And then it had occured to her, she didn’t need to sing other people’s songs. She could write her own songs, and if people didn’t like her own tunes and her own tunes, well to hell with them. She wasn’t dependant on her singing, she made most of her money from her jobs at the restaurants. For the first time in her life, she was glad that her mother had made her take piano lessons.
That was when she started feeling good within her own skin. Making music, her own music, with her words and her tunes and her voice, she started to feel right again. In order. Aware of who she was. And that felt great. Because she hadn’t felt that way for years.
The originality and honesty in her songs made people want to listen, and not long afterwards she got a record deal.
But all fame has a price.
Hailey made her way to take a seat for her press conference. She smiled at the reporters and gave a wave, then signaled to her assistant that she was ready to begin.
The first reporter chosen to ask a question smiled triumphantly at her peers, and then stated her question. “Have you had any news in regard to your cancer, Ms. Robins?”
All fame has a price.
She had been in the spotlight for six months, when she found many women’s nightmare.
She found a lump in her breast.
No one can understand the feelings that rush throught someone under those circumstances until they experience them first hand. It is impossilbe to describe the emotions that flooded her at that moment.
She was rushed to the best private clinic available immediately; no time was lost. She had a mammogram taken, and she was diagnosed with breast cancer.
She went through chemo. She went through the loss of weight, the anemia, the lasting sickness after a treatment. She went through the loss of her hair.
There was one thing she inisted on. She would not wear a wig. She wanted this battle to be public. She wanted people to know that she was not afraid of what they thought of her appearance; she had never cared in the first place. But most of all, she wanted other cancer patients to know that they weren’t alone in this sickness. She wanted them to have someone to look up to, someone who was going through the same things as them.
And so she had met with other cancer victims, visited hospitals, and organized fund raisers all through her illness. During the climax of her sickness, however, she had kept to her bed, unable to visit; instead mainly visited. But she had still continued her fund raising, and had gathered many donations towards the CF and the PCF. The experience had also left her with the need to write down her thoughts on her life, her illness, and life in general. She had spent much of the time when she was stuck in bed with a pen and paper in hand, writing material for more songs.
That was four months ago. Now, here she was, alive and kicking. She still had to go in every month or so for the next year to make sure that the cancer wasn’t coming back, but the doctors seemed pretty certain that it was over and gone. Never to come back again. And her hair had grown back.
Hailey sat in the conference room, waiting for her to appear. Waiting. That was something she had missed. Her staff walked in, apologizing for being late, and took their seats.
The meeting was in regard to her newest cd being released, as to whether or not she wanted to make any dedications on the cd. They had this meeting every time, but it was well known that Hailey had never made any dedications on any of her other cds; she didn’t have any one to dedicate them to.
“Well,” one of her employees began, “I think we can wrap this up quickly.” Not even bothering to set down her brief case, she proceeded. “Any dedications you’d like to make, Hailey?” Not even waiting for a response, she continued, “No? I guess our work here is done. I’ll catch up with the rest of you at our next meeting.”
The woman stood up and made for the door and the others from the meeting started to follow, when a soft “Wait,” stopped them.
“I would like to make some dedications on this cd,” Hailey said gently. When everyone looked at her strangely, she repeated her statement.
“Hailey, honey, you’ve never wanted to dedicate any of your songs before. Why start now?” The annoying woman asked her. If she wasn’t such a great worker, Hailey would’ve fired her a long time ago. She never listened to anything anyone else had to say.
“My songs have never been about other people before,” Hailey answered. “They’ve been general songs about life and the people in it. But these songs are about specific people, and I want those people to know that.”
“Okay, darling, we’ll get you your dedications. But can we please try to wrap this up quickly? Some of us have work to get done.”
Glaring at the other woman, Hailey pulled a piece of paper with noted on it from a pocket on her jacket. “I want to dedicate ‘You Oughta Know’ to my ex. No name. Just ‘To My Ex.’”
The other people there looked around at each other, trying to figure out if anybody besides the singer in front of them knew who this ‘Ex’ was, but no one seemed to have a clue.
“‘Head Over Feet’ I’d like to dedicate to-” And then it occurred to her. Something just clicked, and she realized what had been in front of her the whole time. She smiled, the fog in her mind gone, the questions answered. “My brother and his girl friend.”
At this the other woman spoke up. “Sweetie, you've never even met your brother.”
Hailey looked straight up into the woman’s eyes. “Not that you know of.”
The press didn’t know anything about her family. Nobody did. She wasn’t known as the daughter of anyone famous, the sister of so-and-so, the girl friend of that famous movie star- She was Hailey. Just Hailey. And she liked it that way.
The press had noticed, of course, how she always seemed to avoid or weasel out of questions regarding her family. They pushed her, but she never gave in. The Enquirer had hired people to trace her, to dig up dirt on her, but nothing was found. She had covered her tracks expertly.
As far as they knew, she had born to Melinda and John Robins in Angel Harbor, NY. A couple that had lived out on the edges of the town. A couple that had been dead for twenty and a half years.
They had been driving home from the hospital with their new born daughter and their year-old son, but they had never made it home. Crashing head-on with a semi, the two adults had been killed instantly; the daughter had still been sleeping soundly when the firemen found her. The son had never been seen again.
That was all the press knew. They didn’t know what had happened to the little girl after that. They didn’t know where she had grown up or who had taken care of her. The whole world had forgotten the Hailey Robins had ever existed. Until now.
She still didn’t understand how she had gotten away with it. Of course, she had had lessons from the best, but still, creating a whole new identity, not to mention for a brother you’re not even sure exists, isn’t the easiest thing in the world. Hacking into computers to change the records of newspaper manuscripts from more than twenty years ago, creating birth certificates and medical records through a hospital data base, making sure that everything fit perfectly together; it was a puzzle.
The little girl had existed, that was the truth. But the older brother...
No one knew who had adopted her but Hailey and her adoptive parents. And they had never told her. Keeping a secret from your children is always wrong. Especially a big secret like adoption. The parents can think that they are only protecting their child, but in reality, the child is going to end up even more hurt if they have to find out for themselves. No matter how you look at it. And that was what had happened to Hailey.
“She’s acting stupid,” the lady in gray said to her colleague as they exited the conference room. “It’s just going to cause the press to think that she’s found her brother.”
The man beside her seemed to study the floor for a moment as they stood there before suggesting, “What if she has?”
“Found her brother?” The woman asked. “Yeah right.” And with a nod to each other, they separated, each going their own way.
Still in the room, Hailey pulled out a photograph from her purse. Tears streamed slowly down her face as she looked at her family. But she didn’t have a family. Not anymore. She covered all that up when she had left. She didn’t have a family.
The couple had been in New York for a reason. The had been recommended to an obstetrician out in Belgridge County; they had been having trouble with their pregnancy. The mother-to-be had been throwing up blood during her morning sickness bouts, and their regular obstetrician had referred them to a specialist in NY.
They stayed in a hotel just outside of the city where the doctor’s office was located. It was a small town, quaint, but unexciting. They never thought they’d have any reason to remember Angel Harbor.
She had three weeks until she was due. To her and her husband, it couldn’t come soon enough. More than eight months pregnant, throwing up blood had been one of the most terrifying experiences of their life. They had already endured one late miscarriage; they didn’t want to have to undergo that again. First having to deal with their own emotions over their loss, and then to have to tell their relatives and friends that they weren’t going to be having a child; it had been overwhelming.
Once in the office, everything seemed to be going fine. The nurse said that the baby was healthy, that her heart beat was normal. And then everything had gone so quickly. The nurse had called for a doctor, and before the woman or her husband knew what was going on, she was being rushed out of the room on a gurney. In the next few minutes, it was explained that something had happened to the baby. They were going to need to operate.
The next hours were torture for the man, who spent the time pacing in the waiting room. When the doctor finally came out, the husband noticed the grim look on the man’s face and knew that something was wrong. He questioned the doctor, becoming more frantic with each moment. He wanted to know how his wife was. He wanted to know what was wrong with his child.
He found out the saddening news from the doctor. His wife had survived. But his child had not. The doctors and nurses told him that they were sorry, that they had tried their hardest, that they hoped he and his wife would be all right. He tuned out all of it. Through the whole thing, he never found out until much later what had actually gone wrong.
The umbilical cord had been wrapped around the infant’s neck. For some reason, it had failed to show up during all of the mammograms. Bit by bit, the child had been starved of oxygen. Until the nurse at the New York office had realized what was wrong. And by then it had been to late.
Three Hours later
Hailey stepped out of the conference room, mentally going over the subject of the meeting. It had been about her concert tour for her latest album. The tour was to start in New York City, and finish in Albuquerque, New Mexico. It was to be a short tour; only two months.
Her manager had stressed how she was still recovering from the cancer. To everybody else in the world, that made perfect sense. To Hailey, it was illocgical. Truthfully, she had not had a long illness. They had caught the cancer early and had defeated it in only five months. Some people had cancer for years and never got healthy. Still, what struck Hailey as unreasonable was that as soon as the doctors had pronounced her recovered, she had been rushed to the studio to record her new cd. Her manager had gotten a look at some of the songs she had written during her illness and had decided to record them as soon as possible.
Four months was not the amount of time in which you record a cd. A whole cd. It was pure insanity. She was a big star. She might not have been mainstream pop like Britney Spears or Christina Aguleria, but she had the same amount of fans and the same size crowds around her that they had. A year was a short time in which to record a cd. Four months? It was just ridiculous.
She went back to her hotel room later that afternoon to try to think. She didn’t usually have the time for a break during the day, so she took it when she could. As she looked around her hotel room, she realized she wanted out. And not just out of the room. She was sick of the whole singing business. She wanted it to be over. She wanted to run away from it all. But she had already done that once. And look where she had ended up that time.
She hadn’t even had enough energy to argue with them about the last destination of the tour. She knew that she needed to go back. She had had enough time to discover who she was; who her family was. It was time to go back.
The couple stayed in Angel Harbor a week longer. They weren’t sure what to do. They were lost, scared, dispirited. They both felt that they couldn’t go back to their friends and family with the news. Especially after the last miscarriage. Then the husband read the local newspaper.
There was a little baby, barely over a week old, at the hospital. Her parents had both died in a tragic car accident, and now she was an orphan. The family had no relatives who could take her, both parents being only children, and it was supposed that their daughter would end up in a foster or community home.
The couple took it as a sign. They had been expecting a little girl. This child was only a week old. And so they decided to adopt her. It took two weeks to finish the adoption, something which surprised the two. They knew through friends that adoptions could take years, and then could fall apart at the last minute. Their adoption had only taken half of a month. It almost seemed as though someone was helping them, pushing the adoption forward. But they didn’t know for certain, and they didn’t care. They had a daughter and that was all that mattered to them. And as far as anybody else knew, right down to their very own parents, she had been born to them and nobody else.
In their opinion, she was perfect for them, and they were perfect for her.
And that was how Jeff and Nancy Parker had come to adopt Hailey Robins.
Okay, just for all of you confused readers out there, here’s Hailey’s schedule so far:
Starting in May 2001,
4 months spent working at the restaurants, singing in the clubs- That brings us to mid Aug. 2001
6 months of ‘fame’- That brings us to Feb. 2002
5 months of cancer (they detected it very early and it was a mild case)- That brings us to July
4 months afterwards recording her new cd- That brings us to November 2002
Now she’ll being going on a 2 month tour- That will bring us to January 2003. That’s mid-senior year for the Roswell gang.
To you all: I'm sorry if this is confusing you. Personally, when ever I start reading a confusing story, I just give up and delete it from my bookmarks! However, I revised parts 1-3 to make it easier to understand, but I'm not sure if it'll help at all. I'd beg you to keep reading it...but that's not my style. By part 7 all the pieces should pull together, so if you can just hold on 'til then... Anyways, it's up to you! Onto part three!
Michael leaned against the wall, listening to his best friend rave about how he was going to get tickets to his favorite singer’s concert. Hailey Robins. Yay. A singer. How thrilling. Didn’t the world have enough of those?
How Max could be so enamored by this woman whom he had never even met was impossible for him to understand. It wasn’t even puppy love anymore, it was full-blown obsession. His room had become a shrine to the singer; posters, pictures, and news articles of the singer cluttered the walls of his bedroom. It was getting pathetic.
Max had been one of those fans who had sent a get-well-soon card every single day of Hailey’s illness. He was always ranting about the young woman, and it provided for pretty boring conversations around Max.
It wasn’t that Michael didn’t like the singer, he did, it was just that she was all his friend ever thought about. She was just someone famous. Yes, she was actually a very good singer. But Michael would never have admitted that to his friend. Max would have suggested that they start a fan club together. There was no reason for Max to get all enthralled by her, she was just someone who sang for her living. It wasn’t like he was ever going to be able to meet her, anyhow. Why couldn’t Max just have a crush on someone normal.
And then Michael remembered the last time his best friend had fallen in love with someone ‘normal.’ They had gotten along great for a while, then they had broken up- numerous times, she had pretended to sleep with her first ex, for reasons unknown to all save Maria, Max had treated the girl like trash, and had ended up sleeping with their enemy, who, it turned out, had killed the heart-broken girl’s best friend. Maybe it was better for Max to be in love with someone he could never even meet.
Liz. Liz had been gone for almost a year and a half now. No one had heard from her since the night that Maria had driven her home after Tess’s departure. According to Maria, the two girls had hung out and talked that night until Maria had felt sure that her best friend was stable. That was the last time anyone had seen her.
Everyone had expected Max to feel guilty, to blame himself for her disappearance. Mainly because it was his fault. At least more than anyone else’s. But he hadn’t. He had simply shrugged off her leaving Roswell as an effect of Alex’s death. And that would make it Tess’s fault. Not his. So, to everyone’s astonishment, he just brushed his missing ex off as another one of the consequences of Tess’s betrayal, and moved on. He didn’t close off or anything. He just didn’t choose to acknowledge the fact that it was his fault.
But back to Liz. No one had heard from her, not even the Parkers or Maria. She had just vanished into thin air, simply leaving a note to her parents that she requested that they not hire a private detective to find her if the police couldn’t. It had been a rather cold note, but the Parker’s didn’t seem surprised. They didn’t even question Maria and the others to see if they had any idea why Liz would run away in the middle of the night. It seemed as if the Parkers had already accredited the loss of their daughter to another reason, but nobody knew what that reason was.
Michael followed Max to the Crashdown. Max was so excited that he had just secured orchestra tickets to the Hailey Robins concert in Albuquerque in two months. It didn’t matter to Max that the seats were outrageously priced, but Michael had the sneaking suspicion that his friend had applied some ‘alien voodoo magic,’ as his girl friend would call it, in changing some singles into hundreds. He would have asked Max about it, but Michael was pretty sure that Max would have just waved away the accusations with the excuse ‘anything’s worth it for Hailey.’ It was things like that that scared Michael.
And so now, Max had five front row center seats, in case the others in their little gang wanted to come to the concert as well, along with five backstage passes, secured through one of Philip Evans’ business partner’s clients. It was going to be a long two months.
They reached the Crashdown and slid into their usual booth, Isabel leaving a conversation with Maria to join them, and in a few moments Mrs. Parker, who had been filling in for some of the waitress’s over the Thanksgiving vacation, came by to take their order. When she approached the table, she let out a small laugh over the scene in front of her. The Max boy was to be talking non-stop, while Michael, whom she recognized as one of her husband’s cooks, was rolling his eyes and seemed to be trying to keep himself awake. The two boys looked up at the sound of her laughter and each offered a slight smile to her.
“Hi Isabel, how’s college going for you?” she questioned. Ever since her daughter’s disappearance, she had been acting much nicer to all of Liz’s friends. They had their suspicions she was hoping they had any news about Liz’s whereabouts that they would share with her, but they didn’t, and she never asked, so their theory remained unproven.
Receiving a response from Isabel, she turned to one of the other teenagers at the table. “And what’s up with you, Max?” she asked politely, and silently commended herself on acting so nicely to the young man who had broken her daughter’s heart, and on some level resulted in Liz leaving Roswell. Michael, too, seemed surprised, but Max either didn’t notice or just took it in stride.
Max was about to launch into a full-fledged discussion of his idol, but Michael saved Mrs. Parker from what he deemed a fate worse than death. “He’s just got tickets to his favorite singer’s concert,” Michael said, effectively cutting Max off. “Hailey-Something,” he added.
“Really? How exciting,” Nancy Parker replied. “I’ve never heard of any singer with the first name Hailey. What kind of music does she sing?”
“Alternative,” Max informed her. “I can’t believe you’ve never heard of her before. She’s the best singer on the planet.” Isabel rolled her eyes.
“Or the universe, in Max’s opinion,” Michael said. “Are you sure you’ve never heard of her before? She’s the singer who had cancer this year. Hailey Robins.” At hearing the name, Nancy faltered a bit, growing pale. To both Max and Michael’s confusion, she quickly took down their orders and fled for the back, ignoring the question of concern. The two friends exchanged a look of bewilderment, but continued their conversation.
As they were waiting for their food, Mrs. Parker burst through the door to the back of the restaurant, angrily shouting something towards the break room. Moments later, her husband followed her into the main part of the restaurant, wrapped his arm around his quiet, yet hysterical, wife, and gently pulled his wife towards their apartment away from prying eyes.
“Maybe she was just worried over the fact that someone had cancer,” Max suggested. Michael rolled his eyes and Isabel dropped her face into her hands.
Michael fell back on his bed, exhausted from his shift. There was something about flipping burgers that just took the energy out of you. That, and making out in the storage room with your girl friend for an hour after closing.
Michael closed his eyes and let the sleep take over.
He vaguely realized that this was a dream he was experiencing, but he was to emerged in watching the two children play to really comprehend that.
The little girl and the little boy were prancing around (had he just used the word prancing? It must be a dream), enjoying being in each others company. A mist seemed to separate him from the two children. He looked around to find himself in a field, but aside from the two children, he wasn’t alone. Across from him, on the other side of the children stood a woman, maybe nineteen or twenty years old, watching the girl and boy play with amusement. She looked up, and her eyes locked on the man in front of her. She acknowledged him, but turned her attention back to the kids, beckoning for him to do the same.
Then a strange thing happened. He became that little boy. And without understanding how he knew, he knew that that woman had become that little girl. The little girl that he was now playing with.
The rest of the dream passed in a flurry as he explored river banks, played tag, and climbed trees with the other girl. His sister. No, the boy’s sister. But he was that boy.
Hailey awoke from her dream, the same one that she had every night. But there had been something different about that one. Her brother had been in it. But her brother was always in them. But this had been her brother. The real thing, not just the one her memory had recreated. It was as if her epiphany earlier that day had allowed for her brother to actually enter the dream for himself. To share the dream. And all of a sudden, she was actually glad to be heading to Albuquerque.
Only two more months to go, she thought.
Getting out of her, bed, she looked over at the schedule that had been placed on the hotel dresser. She officially began the tour tomorrow. They were in New York right now, and tomorrow she would be performing her tour opening concert at the Beacon Theater in NYC. Not her first concert, but her first tour. And this time, she wouldn’t be opening for somebody else.
One month later
Michael had been having the same dream every night for the previous month, and he was still no further along in discovering the meaning of them than he had been the first night. In other words, no where.
Edited by - AuroraAngel101 on 09/27/2001 14:14:34
Edited by - AuroraAngel101 on 09/27/2001 14:18:36