Sometimes, it amazes me how easily we settled into our new lives. Michael and I moved into an apartment on Hammersmith Street. Five blocks away from us, Max and Liz moved into a duplex on Corliss Street and Alex and Isabel rented a house a block away from Max and Liz on Lotus Avenue. For a long time, we were happy, but a funny thing about happiness, it often causes us to feel safe too soon. The years pass by so quickly that you never see the inevitable coming.

September 24, 2004

Weekly Log Entry

Written by Maria DeLuca

***

United States Federal Building in Downtown San Diego, CA. – March 5, 2003

Quickly, Agent Joseph Randall rushed through the gray-painted halls. In his hand, he clutched a thick manila folder. Impeccably dressed, the man gracefully buttoned his jacket before reaching a set of large mahogany doors. Swallowing twice, the gentleman counted to ten before raising his fist and knocking firmly on the dark wood surface. A loud “come in” echoed out to him, causing the young man to adjust his tie before opening the door.

Entering the room, Agent Randall was, once again, struck by how large the office was. About ten feet from the door, a set of inner-office doors stood open. About twenty feet behind the inner-office doors, the senior agent, Rudolph Corson sat behind a large antique mahogany desk. The positioning of the furniture was such that, upon entering the office, a person’s eyes would be naturally drawn to the imposing desk and, of course, Agent Corson himself.

Looking up from his papers, Agent Corson motioned for Agent Randall to approach the desk. With less confidence than he could have summoned, Agent Randall approached his superior officer. Rudolph Corson may have been a glorified pencil pusher, but he maintained a physique that made him look more like thirty, instead of the fifty he had already seen come and go. Interlacing his fingers, Rudolph Corson leaned forward and requested a progress report on his latest “big” case from the seemingly amusingly timid, frighteningly green Agent standing before him.

“Well Agent Randall, what information do you have for me?”

“We-ell sir, three operatives successfully tracked one of the aliens down. As suspected, she has tried to mask her appearance: She lost about twenty pounds and dyed her hair red. She also changed her name to…Allexas Wavmen.”

“Is that all?”

Joseph Randall adjusted his tie again while clearing his throat. Fumbling terribly, Agent Randall continued with his report, “We-ell sir, no, there is more. It appears that the

operatives attempted to apprehend the alien and did succeed in wounding her by shooting her at least two times, but I’m afraid they lost her.”

Red in the face with rage, Corson shot to his feet and shouted, “Shot her! I never gave

any orders to shoot to kill. This alien is wanted for more testing. A dead alien is of little research value to us and now you say they have lost her! How do you lose a woman whose been shot at least twice?”

“We-ell sir, no one’s quite sure.”

“Well, someone better find out and PDQ, too. I’m taking over direct command of this project Agent Randall. From here on out, you bring all information directly to me and only to me. Is that understood?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good, now get out of here and find that alien. The last thing we need is for a woman carrying at least two of our slugs in her and with no previous criminal history to be found by some bleeding heart. Lord knows we got enough bad press during that Roswell incident three years ago.”

“Yes, sir.”

Turning quickly, Agent Randall sighed in relief as he pulled the heavy office door closed behind him. As he walked away, Joseph Randall winced at the idea of working closely with Agent Corson, but also, he was glad that the responsibility of the case was finally off his shoulders.

Glendale, CA. – March 8, 2003

Chiming loudly, the bells of Sacred Heart church rang throughout the surrounding neighborhoods. Like many of the neighborhood houses of worship in Los Angeles, Sacred Heart is small but beautifully ornate. Fashioned from a Spaniard design, the moldings, inside and out, dazzled the eyes with visions of cherubs, saints and the Madonna.

Outside, flowing silk ribbons and creamy white roses covered the front steps and external light fixtures.

Inside, people bustled back and forth, some meeting for the first time, others greeting each other as old friends.

By the door, Isabel stood asking people to sign the guest book and handing out keepsakes. Alex stood beside her and directed people to the seating inside. Excusing himself, Alex kissed Isabel on the cheek, walked to a side entrance, opened the door and walked inside, closing the door behind him.

After half an hour, Alex reentered the chapel with the Mother of the bride on his arm. Alex escorted the crying woman to the front left pew, signaling the rest of the guests to take their seats and for Isabel to make a discreet exit – backstage.

Ten minutes later, “The Wedding March” began to ring out. Down the center aisle, three beautiful women entered the chapel, one after the other, in single file. The first wore a simple, high-waisted, cobalt blue gown with off-the-shoulder baby doll sleeves, an oval neck and a softly pleated, ankle-length skirt. The second wore a more complicated version of the first women’s dress in that the second woman’s dress had a two-inch row of black lace hanging from her sleeves, neck and skirt as well as a five-inch ruffle at the end of her floor-length skirt.

Last in line, the Bride wore an amazing gown of soft white silk. The gown had a discreet “v” neck trimmed by a one-inch white satin ribbon that reached around each bare shoulder and met in the back, behind a satin rosette. Diamond-point sleeves wrapped around arms covered in goose flesh and were pulled tight, on both sides, by a single thin, elastic cord slipped around the bride’s trembling middle fingers. From under a simple veil of gauzy lace, the bride smiled wider, the closer she got to the man waiting for her at the end of the aisle.

Finally standing beside the groom, the bride blushed and allowed her betrothed to take her hand. The Priest began the litany of promises and the undertaking of vows. With a final “I do,” the Priest pronounced the couple Husband and Wife and told the groom to kiss his bride.

From behind the groom, Michael watched Max lift Liz’ veil, touch her cheek softly and lean down to warmly cover her lips with his own. Looking past the happy couple, Michael saw Maria and indulged in staring at how radiantly she glowed from her happiness for her best friend. Her shoulder-length hair framed her face in a layered cut that was parted just right of down the middle. In Michael’s mind, every time he saw the hairstyle, it created a halo effect that made Maria look like the angel she was to him.

After a moment, Maria raised her gaze to meet Michael’s and she blushed for the hundredth time that day from the sight of Michael with his hair parted to the side, neatly groomed and wearing a black, well-fitting tux. As handsome as Maria found a well dressed, manicured Michael, all day, she had fought the impulse to reach over and mess up his hair, maybe undo his tie. They continued to stare at each other until they realized Max and Liz had turned away from the alter. Taking Michael’s arm, Maria squeezed Michael’s arm as he led her down the aisle behind the new Mr. and Mrs. Evans.

Emerging from the church, Liz laughed as her family and friends blew a thick curtain of bubbles at her and Max. Running for the car parked out front, Liz and Max raised their arms over their heads to avoid the popping soap bubbles. At the car, Liz held up her bouquet and called for all the unmarried women. A cacophony of hissing rose as the women jockeyed for a good place. Liz turned around and threw the bouquet over her head as hard she could. The large bouquet sailed through the air, past the clawing females, toward a woman who had held back purposely and, finally, hit Maria square in the chest. Liz turned around and saw the shocked look on Maria’s face and started laughing hysterically. Liz waved to Maria and entered the car. Liz was still waving when Max started the car and, shortly thereafter, they drove away.