Max noticed that Jason seemed to be sorry for his rudeness, but only for a moment. The stone face of resolve quickly went back up as he chose to remain silent. Max figured he was like most preteens and was probably just angry at the world for no particular reason. Since he hadn't even truly met the boy, he wasn't going to take any of it personally, but he wished he could say the same for
Liz, who appeared to be more than a little hurt by her young friend's attitude.
«We're getting pizza," Max spoke as abruptly as Jason had, then took Liz by the arm to guide her back into the living room.
«What are we doing?» she whispered.
«Ignoring him," Max replied, also in a whisper. «Don't worry, he'll follow.»
Then they heard the front door slam shut.
«Time for a new plan," Liz said as she hurried back into the hall and flung the door open. «Jason, freeze!»
He had only gotten a few steps away from the house when Liz's voice stopped him cold. With shoulders slumped, his back was still to her, but she had definitely gotten his attention.
Max came up behind her to watch what she was doing and provide backup if necessary. But her body language told him that, for the moment, his assistance was not required.
«In the house," she said in one of the most firm tones of voice Max had ever heard her use, «now!»
«You don't have to talk to me like I'm a baby," Jason moped as he came back into his home.
«Then stop acting like one," Liz replied, shutting the door behind them.
Jason sulked into the living room and deposited himself on the couch. Max and Liz followed and took seats on either side of the boy. They sat in total silence until the pizza came.
Max paid the delivery guy while Liz brought the pizza into the dining room. They had wanted to just relax and
eat while watching TV, but one look at the pristine living room convinced them that sitting at a table would be their best option. So, instead of the random noises of whatever was on the tube, the three of them settled in for a very quiet dinner.
Forty miles away in Michael's apartment, another dinner was taking place with an even greater amount of hostile silence. A meal carried out with equal amounts of anger and absolute quiet was in itself an art form, one at which Maria and Michael had become masters.
It had started when Michael had placed on his plate the piece of lemon chicken that Maria had prepared. A scrape of the fork against the ceramic dish evoked a dirty look from Maria as she assumed it had been an intentional message aimed at her. She answered with an abrupt clink of her own fork onto her plate, clearly indicating that he should have let her serve herself first considering that she was not only the cook but the only lady present and it was the gentlemanly thing to do. Michael only glanced up briefly as he continued to ignore her.
The meal progressed to the next phase with the passing of side dishes. First, Maria took a small helping of her world-famous string bean casserole and placed the bowl down on Michael's side of the table, but not into his waiting hands. She made sure it landed with a definite thud. Michael countered by taking a heaping spoonful and plopping the casserole onto his plate, spilling some of it onto the table. Maria rolled her eyes at his gluttony.
Then came the passing of the rolls. Both participants reached to the center of the table for the bread at the same
time, grabbing their own pieces while their hands momentarily grazed each other. There was a bit of hesitation as they looked into each other's eyes and knew that they were both tempted to take their rolls and use them as projectiles to be launched at each other. However, the possibility of a harmlessly flirtatious food fight was the furthest thing from their minds as they considered the hot buttered weapons.
«You didn't have to come if you were going to be in a mood.» Michael slammed his roll onto his plate to punctuate his statement.
«Oh, no.» Maria tore into her own roll with a vicious-ness rarely seen outside of the jungle. «I promised a week ago to make you dinner. I don't want it to look like I don't honor my commitments.»
«Are you trying to make some kind of point?» he asked.
Maria couldn't help but think that her boyfriend was clueless. «Nope. No point at all. I'm just sitting here having a wonderfully prepared meal.»
More hostile silence as they continued to eat.
Progressing beyond the scraping of forks, Michael took their conflict to the next level by chewing with his mouth open, although the action was most likely unintentional. Even so, Maria shot him a look of disgust before pointing her fork toward his mouth in a threatening manner. Understanding her meaning, Michael closed his mouth, taking each bite with precise care.
«Why couldn't you do anything at Alex's memorial?» Maria asked suddenly, cutting into the silent meal.
Michael swallowed the piece of chicken he was chewing with his mouth closed. «I cooked.»
«And a meal prepared by you is always a creative endeavor.» Maria shifted the food around on her plate. «Why couldn't you perform something?»
«What? Sing along with the band?» he replied sarcastically. «Are you insane?»
«Obviously," she said, taking a bite of her roll, contemplating her response as she chewed. «You could have done the skit with Max and Isabel.»
«I'm not a comedian," he replied.
«You're telling me.»
More silence.
Food was being pushed around on both plates as Michael and Maria apparently gave up on the meal altogether.
«What is it with this quiet loner routine?» Maria asked.
«What routine?» he said. «It's who I am. Sorry if I can't do tricks for you. I'm not a trained dog.»
«Pity," she replied.
«And what's with you?» He changed his position from defense to offense. «Why can't you just accept me for who I am and stop trying to change me?»
«Gee, I wonder," she replied sarcastically.
«You always have to be so condescending!» he said.
The meal had been forgotten, and the hostile silence had evolved into hostile debate.
«Because you're always so impossible," she shot back, standing up. «I don't know why I even came here.»
«Finally, something we agree on.» He rose so quickly that his chair fell behind him.
«Oh no, don't get up," she said, although he was already standing. «No need to develop manners now. I can see myself out.»
«Fine," he said, righting his chair to sit back down.
She looked at him like she was surprised he actually wasn't going to show her to the door. «Good-bye!»
«See ya," he replied from the chair.
Maria slammed the door shut behind her, pausing outside to take a few deep breaths. Unscrewing her bottle of relaxing cedar oil, she spilled a few drops under her tongue.
On the other side of the door, Michael was also huffing intensely, trying to calm himself. He looked at the remains of the partially uneaten meals on the table before setting his eyes on his kitchen counter, where he saw the chocolate cream pie that Maria had left behind.
Suddenly, his door swung open again as Maria came storming back inside.
«I forgot the dessert.» She grabbed the pie from the counter and made her way back to the door.
Michael considered stopping her, if only to get back the pie, but he stayed in the chair. The door slammed even louder the second time she left. Waiting, Michael eventually accepted the fact that she was not going to return again.
Finally getting off the chair, Michael contemplated clearing the dishes, but put them off for the moment as his thoughts were elsewhere. Making his way across the room, he opened the closet, throwing assorted items out onto the floor as he reached along the back wall. Settling his hands on the large object he had been searching for, he pulled it out, careful not to let the cover slip off. He had been so cautious when he had put the item safely away weeks ago that he didn't want to do any damage to it now since he finally felt ready to see it once again.