I want to believe that Nasedo means us well. Sure, I don’t understand why he hasn’t revealed himself to us, but I like to think he has his reasons. After all, he left us the map on the cave wall and the stones from our planet. And he left instructions with River Dog in case we ever showed up. Doesn’t that mean something? Doesn’t it indicate that he cares about us?

I don’t know why Nasedo left us to hatch from our pods all alone out in the desert. I have a little trouble finding excuses for that. But it was forty-two years from when the ship crashed til we hatched. That’s an awfully long time to be waiting around, alone, watching over three pods that couldn’t have been much company. He was probably scared and lonely, and maybe he even gave up on us hatching at all. Maybe he left to keep his sanity, to make a life for himself, an alien alone in a world of humans. Maybe I would have done the same thing if our positions had been reversed.

I know that Max thinks Nasedo is dangerous. River Dog told us that Nasedo murdered Atherton. I’d like to think that it was because Atherton had found out what Nasedo was, and threatened to reveal him. I mean, maybe Nasedo didn’t have a choice, maybe his life was in danger. People do desperate things when they’re afraid for their life. What are aliens capable of doing?

And I admit it, I want Nasedo to be my father. I want it so bad, I dream about it sometimes.

Seems like I've always been looking for some other place
To get it together
Where with a few of my friends I could give up the race
And maybe find something better
But all my fine dreams and well thought-out schemes
To gain the motherland
Have all eventually come down to waiting for Everyman

When Maria and I were on our way to Atherton’s dome, I was surprised to discover that she and I share the same dream. She’s the only person besides Max and Isabel that I have ever been able to relate to. We’ve both been waiting for about ten years for our fathers to come and rescue us from Roswell, New Mexico.

Ten years in foster care is something like seventy in dog years. Trust me, it’s even longer in alien years.

I see Max and Isabel with their happy home, and their loving parents, and I can’t help but feel a little bit envious. I wouldn’t in a million years want to take that away from them...I just wish I could share a little bit of the normal life they have. I wish I could know what it feels like to have a mother to tuck me into bed, and a father to watch over me while I sleep.

Waiting here for Everyman
Make it on your own if you think you can
If you see somewhere to go, I understand
Waiting here for Everyman
Don't ask me if he'll show -- baby I don't know

Make it on your own if you think you can
Somewhere later on you'll have to take a stand
Then you're going to need a hand

I don’t know what I would have done these past ten years if I didn’t have Max and Isabel to go to when things got really bad. The only time I really sleep is when I’m sprawled out on the sleeping bag that Max keeps just for me. It’s the closest thing to feeling safe, with Max sleeping across the room and Isabel just a door away. That sleeping bag has been the one constant in my life.

I pretend to hate Isabel’s mothering, but there have been times when I’ve been losing it, and she’s the only thing that’s kept me sane. She and I are as alike as Max and I are different. Isabel shows such a cold face to the world, but inside she’s so complicated and nurturing. Isabel is so tuned into my moods, my state of mind, that I’ve learned to put up a wall so that she doesn’t feel all of my pain. I want to spare her that. She already feels guilty enough that she has everything, while I have nothing. I love her for trying to give me what she can, but there’s an empty space inside me that even Isabel can’t fill.

Sometimes Max irritates me when he’s so cautious and earnest about everything. He’s always been the big brother, the level-headed one, and he’s talked me out of many reckless impulses. But still, Max understands me in a way Isabel can’t. He doesn’t ask a lot of questions and smother me like Isabel does. He keeps me sane by just being there for me and listening in his sympathetic way. But there’s a part of me that needs more than Max can give.

Everybody's just waiting to hear from the one
Who can give them the answers
And lead them back to that place in the warmth of the sun
Where sweet childhood still dances
Who'll come along
And hold out that strong and gentle father's hand?
Long ago I heard someone say something 'bout Everyman

I honestly don’t know if Nasedo is the answer, if Nasedo is what I need. I don’t know if anything can heal these past ten years of fear and abuse and confusion, and release this tightness in my chest that makes me wake up in the night, gasping.

I just have to believe that Nasedo will have some answers that will help my life make sense.

I know Max thinks I’m being foolish, that I will only be hurt. I know Isabel can’t bear the thought of me being disappointed like that. They think my search for Nasedo is a pipe dream, that I will slowly wither away and die waiting for him.

But what they don’t realize is that without this hope, I am empty. Without this dream, I am lost.

Waiting here for Everyman
Make it on your own if you think you can
If you see somewhere to go, I understand
I'm not trying to tell you that I've seen the plan
Turn and walk away if you think I am
But don't think too badly of one who's left holding sand
He's just another dreamer, dreaming 'bout Everyman