Madwheeler - Engraved

Chapter 2

[14th February 1989]
[Mike and Max were 18 that year]

They hadn't talked since their last encounter a year ago. She wished she had plucked up the courage to talk to him in the hallways or in their chemistry class, however she was unsure how to go about it. She had rehearsed their potential conversations countless of times but remained hesitant throughout the year...
Max rested her weight against the Yew tree and sighed. At least she'd remembered to wear gloves this time.
"I should be spending Valentine's Day with Lucas" she repeatedly told herself, "No. I should be with my Mother. It's her 48th birthday today."
She chose her Mother. Family over everything else right? However guilt lingered in her, she knew that there was a double reason but she would never admit that to herself. 
Her mind had drifted back to their confrontation many times, and she'd wondered if he would return again today, and why he'd visited her mothers' grave in the first place and how he knew to do so on Valentine's Day. She tried to imagine what she might say to him if he actually were to come, never quite reaching a conclusion about what would be appropriate, and perhaps that was why she wasn't particularly shocked by his presence, but a strange knot of nerves settled in her stomach as she approached him.
Mike was here again, and she could make out the shape of a rose dangling from his fingers.
When she was a few steps away, he glanced at her over his shoulder with an indifferent look, like he'd been expecting her.
"You're here again," she mumbled, chastising herself for stating the obvious. "I mean, I wasn't sure you would-
"Are you going to start shouting again?" he cut her off, but there was no venom in his voice. "Because I'll be leaving in a minute-
"No, no, it's okay," she said quickly. "I...uh...I want to apologise for the way I spoke to you last year. It was unnecessary, and I was upset, and...yes, I'm sorry."
She was surprised to find she actually meant the apology, and judging by the way Mike's eyebrows rose high on his forehead, he was surprised too. Nibbling her lower lip and feeling a little foolish as he continued to stare at her in silence, she almost wished she had repeated her previous actions and simply shouted at him until he'd fled.
"You know," he muttered finally. "Most people would say that I was the one who owed you an apology."
"You don't strike me as an apologetic person."
His eyes became animated for a brief moment, and he almost grinned. "I'm not."
"Well, neither am I, usually," she went on, awkwardly shifting her weight. "But I had no right to tell you to leave-
"So you have no objection to me being here?"
She took a moment to consider his question, deciding that this was easily one of the most bizarre moments she could recall in her life. And that was saying something. A loud part of her brain was screaming at her to ask him to leave again, but, as was often the case, her curiosity was so much louder, and she realised she was deeply intrigued about his reasons for being here. She was also curious about his behaviour, which she determined could almost be considered civil, and against her better judgement, she shrugged her shoulders.
"It's a free country," she said after the long pause. "You can do what you want."
He nodded then sat down, still facing her mother's grave. She did the same, and the two of them remained like that for a while, neither speaking or even moving as the cold wind thrashed around them. The silence was far from comfortable, and the urge to break it made Max's tongue itch, but it was Mike who spoke first.
"Tell me something about her," he requested suddenly, keeping his eyes on the headstone.
"What do you-
"Just tell me something about her," he said again. "Anything."
Max's brow wrinkled as she spoke. "Well, she was the top chef back in San Diego, entrepreneur of a successful restaurant. She was skilled-
"No, not like that," he stopped her. "The big things are what make people heroes, not humans. Tell me something small."
She went quiet again, rubbing her lips together with thought. "Well...she liked to listen to music, especially The Bee Gees-
"Smaller," he interrupted, flicking his eyes to her expectantly. "How did she drink her coffee?"
Max blinked at him in bewilderment. "She didn't like coffee. She only drank tea; Chamomile tea with no sugar."
"What else?"
"She...um...she hated ham, so she only had cheese in her sandwich."
He cocked his head like he was storing the information and twirled the rose between his fingers. "Something else."
"She loved olive oil," she continued distantly. "She used to put it on everything; Even the ridiculous ones like fruit, pies..." her voice hitched, and she clenched her eyes shut when they started to ache with inevitable tears. "God, I miss her."
She hadn't intended to say it out loud but there it was, sitting in the air between them, practically begging him to mock or judge, and she instantly felt vulnerable and ridiculous as she swept the tears almost falling off her jaw. She curled up and angled her face away from Mike, waiting until the wind had plucked away the licks of her tears before she turned back to him, ready to challenge whatever taunt had been eagerly tickling the tip of his tongue, probably calling her a 'pussy' again when she cried in front Lucas. But when she opened her eyes, she found that Mike was actually looking at her, almost fixated on her like he was trying to memorise each inch of her expression and scar it onto his brain, and she shivered under the intensity of it.
"Why are you here, Mike?" she asked bluntly, not really expecting a response but feeling the need to say something.
"I've been lonely on valentine's day and figured they could use the company. Like you said last year, the bare minimum I could do" he said evenly as he looked out at all the headstones, but there was a peculiar undertone to his voice that was captivating.
"Oh... I see," Max held her breath and risked it, "what about El?" 
Mike shook his head, "It's complicated."
"Help me to understand?"
Yet another awkward pause in their conversation. She knew he would be unreserved about it, especially towards her...
"As in, on top of me abandoning her at the most crucial point?"
"Yeah.."
"She keeps saying that... and I agree that..." he hesitated, "it's hard for us to have deep conversations like I don't open up to her enough and she hasn't been through enough normal people problems to understand me."
"It's probably why you and Lucas are so close." He muttered.
Max tilted her head and stared at him, wide-eyed like he'd spoken in a language she didn't understand, but in a way, she had.
He tried to avoid eye contact, "My point is, She and I would've had a very different, much stronger, relationship if she had grown up in the real world."
"If you're not open with her then why are you being so open with me?" she asked. "In fact, why are you being...civil to me at all?"
This time, his eyes shifted to hers, his body followed, and he tapped his forefinger against one of the rose's thorns
"Well, since El and I are now distant by choice, and you and El have some things in common like she's a girl and you're a girl, you're pretty badass with your ice powers and stuff, probably more than she is... You've got your cool skateboard stuff and all... so maybe you could be a froomer after all. You know, frost plus zoomer?"
"Okay...?" she mumbled uncertainly. "Is that a cryptic and desperate way of telling me that you want me in your party?" She smiled in a jokingly arrogant way.
"Something like that," he said, and his lips tilted into half a smirk. "If you of all people are calling me desperate, Mayfield, I'm wondering if I should be concerned."
Max almost smiled, but she caught it. That would simply be too surreal. "Is that why you're really here?" she asked, her tone harsher than intended. "You know, you won't find redemption in a graveyard, Wheeler."
His half-smirk disappeared and he straightened his spine. "I'm not looking for redemption, Maxine. I'm just looking for respite and a replacement."
With that, he got up, dropped the black rose in front of her mother's headstone and walked away in much the same way as last year. And again, Max was left speechless, her eyes tracking him until he was out of sight, and that peculiar sense of guilt was clogging her stomach once more. Gathering her thoughts, she turned back to her mothers' grave, straightened Mike's rose into a more deliberate position.
"Men are very confusing," she sighed.
With a tear sliding down her cheek, she leaned forward and reached out to trace her fingers across the letters of the epitaph.