Cuts Like a Knife

Kyle Valenti walked dejectedly through the streets of Roswell, New Mexico. Part of him could not believe that Liz Parker had dumped him, although in retrospect the signs were all there for him to have seen it coming a mile away. For the past three weeks, Liz had been distant, like she was hiding something or she had something on her mind. Something… or someone. She avoided him on occasion, lied to him, and evaded his questions, yet somehow she made everything seem all right between them. They still dated, she still let him put his arm around her, kiss her.

Suddenly, in a fit of temper, Kyle slammed his hand into a telegraph pole. That was not a good move. It did not alleviate his frustration any; all it did was make his hand hurt, a hand that he needed to play basketball with. Why did he let Liz get to him like that? He could see she had been acting strangely, waiting with Max Evans outside a trailer park for Michael Guerin, only to leave to go tell Guerin something. He saw her getting closer to Evans; why didn’t he break up with her then?

Because he cared about her, Kyle realised when he let himself into the house he shared with his father. Even now, after everything she had put him through, he still cared about her. Feelings like that don’t just go away, but what good did those feelings do him now? Liz dumped him, out of the blue and yet not out of the blue.

“Dad?” No answer. The Sheriff had been called out. Again. That was nothing unusual, even small towns like Roswell had their fare share of crime. Sighing, Kyle turned the radio on.

“Next,” the DJ said, “is a song from way back in 1983. Cuts Like a Knife, by Bryan Adams.”

That sounds familiar, Kyle thought.

“That’s what I want to know,” Kyle muttered, opening the fridge to get a can of root beer. “Who is Max Evans exactly?”

Kyle stopped short with the fridge door still open, struck by the validity of the song to his current situation. Even after the shooting at the Crashdown, he had taken for granted that he had a good relationship going with Liz. But it had gotten round the school that Liz was getting closer to Evans, and this planted a seed of doubt in his mind. And no one really knew Max Evans, the man had secrets.

And the pain he felt when Liz broke up with him, physical pain, was like being cut with a knife. Kyle picked up a carving knife, turning it over and over in his hands.

Things started to go astray after the shooting when Liz started keeping secrets, but it had gotten worse when Tommy and Paulie and some of the others beast Evans up. Even though he did not condone their actions and had said as much to Liz, it was the straw that broke the camel’s back with her. Liz had thrown their relationship away, just thrown it away, and for what?

Distantly, Kyle could hear the phone ringing. He switched the radio off and raced to answer it. “Yeah?”

“Jim?” it was Liz’s father on the other end.

“No, it’s Kyle. Is there something I can help you with, Mr. Parker?”

“Oh, Kyle. Listen, Liz’s grandmother just died and Liz took off. Mrs. Parker and I have things to sort out here. Could you please go look for her? I don’t want her to be alone at this point.”

Kyle wondered vaguely why Mr. Parker would ask him to look for Liz then they had broken up, but he realised that Liz had only broken up with him that afternoon. Under the circumstances, she would not have told her parents yet. So he told Jeff Parker that he would look for Liz and hung up the phone. Damn it! He did not particularly want to go looking for Liz just yet, but he could not let her wander the streets alone. He knew how much Grandma Claudia had meant to her, he stayed up all night at the hospital with Liz the night of the stroke, and he cared too much about her to let her grieve alone. So he put the knife down, grabbed his jacket and keys, left a note for his father and took off.

He tried the Crashdown first, figuring that if Liz wanted to be alone she might go up to the balcony outside her bedroom. Ducking into the alley, Kyle grabbed the railing of the fire escape, ready to climb up when he heard a very familiar sound—the engine of Max Evans’ jeep.

Kyle crept to the corner of the alley and watched, seeing Liz in the jeep. He fought to contain his anger; it could be innocent, Evans may have seen Liz after she left the hospital and given her a ride home because he didn't think Liz should be alone. Evans was like that, Kyle knew, guessed rather, after what happened on the day of the shooting.

But Kyle doubted it was that innocent, somehow. He could not hear what was being said, but his suspicions were proved correct when he saw Liz turned from her front door and rush into Evans’ arms. Evans wasn’t the reason she broke up with him, yeah right. Evans had everything to do with the break up.

He debated whether or not to come out of the shadows and confront them, but he decided that it was not worth it. Liz had made her choice, and causing her more problems with everything she had to deal with right now was not fair—and he did still care about her. Instead, Kyle walked home.

Thoughts about Evans and Liz consumed him on that walk, slowly simmering. By the time he walked into the Valenti kitchen he reached boiling point. Why? What is so interesting about Max Evans anyway? What is so good about him? What does Evans have that I don’t? Damn it! Kyle picked up the knife he had earlier discarded and stabbed it into the counter.

“Easy on the knives, son.”

Kyle whirled around, knife still in his hand, to see his father, Sheriff Jim Valenti, standing in the kitchen. “Dad! When did you get home?”

“Just now. Is there anything on your mind, Kyle?”

“Not really.” Valenti just looked at his son. “Okay,” Kyle amended. “Liz broke up with me today.”

“I’m sorry, son. I know how it feels. Did she give you a reason?”

“Not really, she was pretty vague about it.” Kyle hesitated about telling his father what he believed. He knew that the Sheriff had this idea that Max Evans was dangerous. He hoped his father wouldn’t notice the hesitation, he did not feel like getting into it with him.

No such luck. Jim Valenti knew his son, well. “But…” he pressed.

Kyle sighed. There was no use in hiding it. “But I think that it had something to do with Max Evans.”

“Why? Was it something that Liz said?”

“No! Well, she denied that it had anything to do with Evans. But I saw him with her just now outside the Crashdown. They were hugging each other.”

“If Liz broke up with you, what were you doing there? There are laws against stalking, you know.”

“I wasn’t stalking! Mr. Parker rang here earlier. Liz’s grandmother died today, and Liz had disappeared from the hospital. He wanted me to look for her. Knowing Liz, I tried the Crashdown first. When I got there, Liz was getting out of Evans’ jeep. He walked her to the curb, she was about to go inside when she turned around and rushed back into his arms.”

“He might have been comforting her, you know,” Valenti pointed out, feeling as though he was lying through his teeth. “She did just lose her grandmother.”

“Maybe,” Kyle did not sound convinced.

“Listen, I know this is the last thing you want to hear right now,” his father began. “But I want you to keep an eye in Liz.”

“What?”

Valenti held up a hand. “I want you to see if Max is doing anything to influence her, push her into things she might not want to do.”

“Didn’t you just give me a lecture about stalking?” Kyle raised an eyebrow.

“No stalking,” his father said firmly. “Just keep an eye out at school or at the Crashdown. After all, we don’t want Liz to get hurt, do we?” Valenti got a can of beer from the fridge and left the kitchen.

Kyle stood there for a long time after his father had gone, turning his words over and over inside his head. As he has admitted to himself before, he still cared about Liz. Her breaking up with him did nothing to change that. And maybe there was some validity to his father’s suspicions. Liz had not been the same since the shooting at the Crashdown, when Evans did something to her. Kyle had always assumed it was innocent, that Evans had just calmed her down after her near miss. But now he was not so sure.