"Hey, baby. What's your sign?" asked a strange middle-aged greaser in a pimp-daddy purple athletic suit.

"Do Not Enter," shot back Maria, and then shuttered in disgust all the way to her toes. The spin cycle could not finish fast enough for her taste.

"Hey."

Maria whipped around to scold the freak for daring to speak to her again, but she came face to face with Michael instead. She caught her breath and simply stared at him.

"What are you doing here?"

"Uh, washing clothes. And you?"

"Same. The apartment floor was getting so crowded, I finally broke down and decided to do laundry."

"That's nice."

The conversation was almost normal. Almost. If one didn't notice the sheen of unshed tears in Maria's eyes or Michael's furrowed brow. A herd of white elephants suddenly seemed to fill the empty space between them, and the April-fresh smell of the air seemed to sour.

All along Michael had said that they shouldn't be together; they had to be apart. Of course, he hadn't known exactly why at the time. So they had tried things. But now they both knew why it was wrong. Michael was created by his alien forefathers to be with Isabel. And Maria didn't figure in to the alien plans. Finding out was like getting down to the last piece of a beautiful, intricate puzzle and discovering that it doesn't fit.

Things had been so terrific for a while. Michael had come out of his shell for a few short glorious weeks. They had actually been seen together at school, as a couple, not as shadows slipping out of the eraser room. He kissed her on the cheek every afternoon when he stopped in the Crashdown the for dinner shift. Things seemed perfect. And that was when the dreams started. Dreams that changed their worlds. Uncontrollable, intense dreams of passion and fulfillment. But Michael's dreams had not been of Maria; they were undeniably of Isabel.

"Excuse me, Miss? Are you done with this machine?" The voice of a grandmotherly woman yanked Maria back into reality from the deep pools of Michael's golden-green eyes.

"Umm? Yes. I mean, yes ma'am, it's all yours," stuttered Maria. "I've gotta go," she murmured to Michael as she grabbed handfuls of her clothes from the washer and tossed them soaking wet into her basket.

"Wait Maria. We should talk."

"No really. Maybe some other time."

"Your clothes are still sopping wet, Maria."

It didn't matter. She grabbed her clothesbasket leaving a trickle of water splattering after her. She had to get out of there to breathe air without the smell of detergent ...and Michael. She couldn't look at him knowing how things stood. She should have known it all along, but things with Michael just felt too good to deny. She had philosophized that she would worry about getting hurt when the time came. But now the time had come. And it was worse than she could have ever imagined.

*******

Only Liz and Alex understood the harsh reality of it all- to be an irrelevant pawn in a grander plan. It was like the classic love story. Prince falls in love with the lowly peasant girl, but his royal title calls him to marry another to keep the political balance in tact. Michael couldn't deny it; in simple human terms, he was in love with Maria DeLuca. But his destiny - his entire being - called him to be with Isabel. And to Michael, family ties were too important to break.

The injustice of it all made it difficult to move, to breathe. And it sure didn't make carrying the load of wet clothes home any easier. Maria was exhausted mentally and physically when she stepped into her tiny house. Her mother was whispering fervently into the phone receiver as she entered the living room and dropped the heavy clothes onto the floor.

"Next time, you do the laundry," Maria huffed.

Amy DeLuca covered the phone with her hand and motioned Maria away. "There's someone to see you in your bedroom. Just leave the clothes there."

Thoughts of Michael flooded her mind. She just didn't think she could survive seeing him, in her room no less, where so many of their intense moments had taken place. She stepped toward her room with trepidation, butterflies making double time around her stomach as she pushed the door open.

"Oh, Alex. It's you."

"Who were you expecting? An alien?" he asked in a poor attempt at a joke.

"As a matter of fact..." Maria's voice trailed off, the taste of relief and disappointment on her tongue.

"Yeah, I know what you mean." Alex spoke quietly.

"How are you holding up?" she asked, trying to be a good friend despite her own hurt and anger.

"Well, Maria, I've seen better days. But, each time it's getting a little bit easier to see her." Alex couldn't bring himself to actually say Isabel's name.

"I just saw him in the Laundromat."

The tears came back. And this time she didn't have to be strong and hold them back. Maria sank to the bed and let the tears come. Alex held her in his arms and tried to give comfort, but his eyes were misty too. They had both held on to lightning and lived to tell about its flashing brilliance and its white-hot pain.