Return:
56 Citrus Avenue
Apartment 3A
Roswell, NM

12/08/2---

Lizzie,

Happy almost-anniversary!

How does it feel to have everything you ever wanted, Lizzie? Studying molecular biology at Harvard, marrying Max, having a baby....

I'm so happy for you, chica.

I remember when you were just my science dork friend who dragged her telescope on our fifth-grade camping trip and who danced for joy when we went to visit that biology lab that same year. I remember our sleepovers when you kept telling me that you were going to be this really famous scientist some day. And here you are at Harvard. You never doubted yourself, did you?

I'm so proud of you, Lizzie. Did I tell you that recently?

And I'm even prouder of you that you took Grandma Claudia's advice and followed your heart. (Ha! Bet you thought I forgot that, didn't you? But I didn't. You're my best friend in the whole world, Liz. I would never forget something you told me that was that important.)

Yup, it's your first anniversary. That's why I thought I'd send you a letter (letters are so ... quaint!) instead of just a card. Because it's your first anniversary. Because you and Max pulled it off ... a beautiful baby girl, a good marriage, two promising scholarly careers in front of you. The two of you pulled a huge rabbit out of your hat. (Hmmm. Do you remember that dream Alex had in high school, sophomore year, about you and Max as rabbits? Given how things turned out, that's kind of funny now, isn't it? Don't look like that, Lizzie! You know I'm just teasing you.)

I'm so happy you're happy, Liz. You deserve it. So ... happy anniversary, babe.

Just promise me that you won't forget me -- your best friend in the whole world since birth -- in your new life as a wife and mother.

I am *not* feeling sorry for myself, so don't look at me (well, this letter) like that.

Okay, okay. I guess I *am* feeling a little sorry for myself.

Things aren't the best with Michael right now. He's such a dorkbutt. Things have been rockier than usual since Alex and I got back from our road trip. Michael's been distant, out of it. I thought it was at first my mother's fault. But I don't think so. I grilled her, but ... I don't think she did anything. And I don't think it had anything to do with Izzy. I mean, I don't worry about that stuff at all. Not anymore.

But he hasn't called me very much for the past couple of weeks. He used to spend almost every night at my apartment, but he hasn't been over in days. I don't know what to think. But I'm not curious. I'm *not*.

I'm fed up.

Before you tell me to sniff some cedar oil, listen to my reasons.

I fell for him hard. I admit it. I crashed into his arms like a brick through a window. But it's always been up and down with him, hot and cold, off and on. He's driving me insane! Stupid spaceboy. What was I thinking dating him for the past seven years?! Why can't he be like Max or Alex or someone? A little romance, a little sensitivity never hurt anybody. But no, he has to be Michael. Always Czechoslovakian. You know, he's more like a regular human guy than he thinks.

That's why I've decided that it's too much. I can't deal with him anymore. No more Michael-Land for me.

So ... I know everyone is spending Christmas with you and Max and Claudia in Boston this year. Is it okay if I come early?

I need the sanity of your life, Liz. You and Max have always had the perfect, sane relationship. And I haven't seen Claudia in so long. The last time I saw my goddaughter, her Bambi eyes were so big, they were glowing. And she was so tiny. She must be so much bigger now. I can already tell she's gotten bigger in the last photos you sent.

I can't wait two more weeks to see you guys. And I certainly don't want to spend the next two weeks waiting around by the phone.

I can't deal with Michael. Not at this time of year. So do you mind if I come early?

Call me if it's okay, and I'll catch the earliest flight to Boston.

I love you, Lizzie. Give my love to Max. Tell him I forgive him for getting you preggers. And kiss my baby niece for me.

Maria

Back to Area 51 (Section I)