Life on Mars

*Aslan's POV*

Eliza was incorrigible. She'd been that way since the day I met her while playing on the beach in Florida, when we were both eight years old. From that moment on we'd settled into a pattern: I would relentlessly chase her and she would run like hell in the opposite direction. The problem is that every time I've gotten sick of chasing of her and thrown in the towel, fate shifts just enough to bring us back together. I must admit, however, that I hesitate to use the word 'fate' in regards to Eliza. It suggests that I read into my relationship with her, and that I believe there's something deeper at play here.

The truth is that I'm also a realistic man, which means I've learned not to expect anything from her. Our last affair, which took place in Prague over a year ago, left me with the distinct feeling that she couldn't even be bothered to respect me. This feeling, this digging feeling that hovers around my heart, is the one that bothers me most. It's the one that inspired anger in my tone, and the one that demands I get some answers from her.

And now, the silence that once filled my soul when I pictured her face in my head, has turned into a scream that's plaguing my every thought. I never, not in a million years, thought I'd see her again. I especially never thought I'd get an opportunity to ask her why. Why me? As selfish as it sounds, it's all I've ever wanted to know. She knows what I've been through, so why make more trouble?

When my parents died in a car accident when I was 10, she held my hand during the entire wake. Despite my grief, I fell hard for her, right then and there, watching her tiny pink polished fingers lace between my own. My only surviving grandparents, my father's parents, who'd always been perceptive, saw the connection between us and relocated to Miami from New York to raise me so that I could stay with her.

Four years later, Eliza and I shared our first kiss. Three years after that, we shared a bed for the first time. One year after that, we got into a heated fight, we broke up, and she disappeared three days later. I had no idea she'd been planning to leave Florida.

During the six months I spent attempting to repair my broken heart, my grandparents decided to move back to New York and encouraged me to attend college there. By this time I'd heard that Eliza was in New York, but I wasn't sure where, so you can imagine my surprise when we passed by one another on NYU's campus during a chilly fall day in mid-October about two years later. We made hesitant plans to meet for coffee later on that week. The coffee date turned into an all-night argument, and at 5 a.m., we decided to try again.

We were a disaster for the next four years, constantly back and forth while I finished my degree in finance, followed by a Master's in business administration, and she worked long, late hours at night while completing her undergraduate English degree. We put our differences aside briefly, when my grandfather passed away after suffering a massive heart attack my first year in grad school. Once again, she held my hand during the entire wake, her fingernails now void of any color due to her work in the culinary field.

One year later, as I tediously wrapped up my Master's, and two weeks before Eliza's first novel was published, she held my hand during my grandmother's wake. This time I was staring down at a Harry Winston Classic pear-shaped diamond engagement ring. She'd finally, finally, agreed to let me make her mine.

But as I've said, I'm a realistic man, and it didn't take long to realize that I was the only one interested in getting married. We got into another one of our notorious screaming matches in her bedroom at Violet's apartment, where I thought for sure she was going to drive that engagement ring right through one of my eyes with a punch. Instead she pulled it off and threw it at me with such force that it bounced against the wall behind me and nearly catapulted into the back of my skull.

I left exactly thirty seconds later. I didn't even give a fuck about the ring. I still don't.

Then I met Julia Sanders, who would later become my wife and the mother of my child. Julia was everything that Eliza lacked: patient, compromising, tender and incredibly open-minded. We rarely ever had disagreements and we wanted all the same things in life. I could hardly believe my luck.

Eliza West was long gone by then. I put the past behind me, opened my heart again, and let Julia heal all the wounds that Eliza had caused.

I was 26 when fate morphed again and took a path I'd never even considered. We had the best doctors around and we were in the most advanced medical facility available, but still...I lost Julia during childbirth. At her wake, I held the little hand of my four day old daughter, both cursing and thanking God. Cursing Him for taking all the people I loved away from me, and now making my new daughter suffer for it. Thanking Him for giving her to me, and for letting her at least have me.

I spent the next five years immersing myself in only my daughter and my work. I traveled all over the world conducting business deals as an investment banker in corporate finance. During the day I struck deals for mergers and acquisitions, and when I got home I changed diapers and warmed bottles. My daughter, Callie, has had French, Japanese, English, Italian and Slavik nannies. She can count to 25 in six different languages. Her favorite dish, thus far, is ratatouille, and heaven forbid you try to give her pasta with red sauce if there's no fresh basil on it.

My daughter is only six years old. Six.

It was during our six month stay in Prague, where I was closing a 3.1 million-dollar deal, that I finally dared to leave the house without my wedding ring on for the first time since Julia had died. Callie's nanny, Chesna, had taken her to a playmate's birthday party a few towns away. It was a Saturday in June, and I had been planning to take her myself, but Chesna insisted I take advantage of some rare alone time and said she would go instead. I love my daughter more than anything on this Earth, but even I had to admit that I needed a moment to myself. Work had become increasingly stressful and much to my dismay, I'd found myself feeling rather lonely lately.

I was wandering aimlessly through the second level of the main hall in the Czech National Museum, terribly uninspired after learning about the production of bells in Bohemia and Moravia, when I spotted a distinct figure topped with dirty blonde hair on the first level. Her hair was much longer than the last time I'd seen her, and it was wavy and loose, gathered at the base of her neck, with soft angled bangs across her forehead. She was wearing distressed jeans, rolled up from the ankles, and brown flats. She had on a skin-tight white tunic underneath a loose navy blue top that was hanging off one shoulder, and a lengthy gold necklace with an elaborate charm hanging from it.

And the only reason I remember all this is because we spent that entire day together.

Before I could stop myself, I leaned over the banister and shouted her name. She spun around instantly, her jaw dropping when she saw me. We smiled, we laughed, and we ran towards one another with arms outstretched. I couldn't even remember the last time I'd been able to exchange such an intense, meaningful embrace with anyone other than my daughter.

Looking back, sometimes I wish I'd kept my wedding ring on that day. I could've easily lied, let the ring speak for itself, and behave as if my wife were waiting at home for me. But Eliza is right about one thing – she's never lied to me. In turn, I've never lied to her. So on good days, I know I wouldn't have changed a thing about our chance meeting in Prague.

Six years had gone by. Everything had changed for us. Everything but our love. No matter how much frustration she'd caused me, she was still the most fascinating woman I'd ever known. I'd never been able to figure her out, but the puzzling mystery that constantly surrounded her was the same thing that drew me to her.

I let a week pass before I told her about Callie. It took another week for Eliza to accept the fact that she and I were a package deal. Three days later she arrived at the house I was renting and made dinner for the three of us. My little girl had stars in her eyes all evening. Then, when she ran to Eliza and wrapped her little arms around her legs at the end of the night and begged her not to leave, I began to fall in love with Eliza all over again.

I also began to rethink everything. Eliza was leaving at the end of the summer and going back to her home in Los Angeles. Callie and I were also leaving, but we were headed to Boston. She was to start kindergarten in September and I'd already enrolled her in school and signed a lease for a townhouse in Beacon Hills. Mine and Eliza's plans did not include eachother.

Nine weeks passed. Eliza was a week away from departing. The girls were in the kitchen and I was in the livingroom straightening up, trying to figure out how to approach the subject of what would happen once we all left Prague, when I heard Callie ask her the question that would change everything. She wanted to know if Eliza was going to Boston with us. My daughter had beat me to the punch.

Even from the next room, I could feel the tension permeating the air. It was in the form of silence. My heart sank as I realized, with striking clarity, that I'd been expecting that reaction. I knew that had it been me asking, I would've gotten the same silence.

The timer on the oven going off was what saved Eliza. Callie, having the predictable short attention span for a child, got distracted and never followed up with her inquiry. Eliza, naturally, used it as an excuse not to answer in the first place. Over the next three hours we ate dinner together, cleaned the kitchen, and watched a movie with Callie before we put her to bed. We were sitting on the couch together, my hand resting on her thigh, when she suddenly shifted away, stood up, and announced that she was tired and was going straight to bed when she got home. We both knew that she was supposed to be spending the night.

I stood up, slowly turning to watch her gather her things together, and let out a heavy sigh. That sigh told her everything, because she knew then that I'd heard her in the kitchen with Callie, and her shoulders went rigid. She turned to face me, her stormy gray eyes clouded with sadness.

“I just need some time,” she whispered.

My head fell slightly to the side. “Eliza...” I began quietly. “The last time you said you needed time, you vanished to New York without telling me.”

“I know,” she nodded. “But this is different. There's a child involved, Aslan, and...I'm not-”

“Mother material,” I finished for her. “I know. You've been saying that since we were in college. But you haven't seen what I've seen over the past nine weeks. I'm not saying you have an obligation to stay, but you knew what you were getting into back in June.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Yes, a week after we ran into eachother.”

I wasn't surprised that she pointed this fact out, so I shrugged dismissively. “It was friendly for six days. On the seventh, when we kissed, I knew I had to tell you. But waiting those six days meant I had more of a chance at keeping at least your friendship, at the bare minimum. You and I both know you would've beat feet if I'd told you the first day.”

“That's not true,” she retorted defensively.

“Yes, it is,” I insisted. “You are catastrophically predictable to me, Eliza. I've known you for over twenty years. This has got to stop, and I'm telling you right now, if you walk out that door, I'll have no doubt in my mind that this will be the last time I'm going to see your face.” I motioned to the kitchen with a wave of my hand. “I'm going to the kitchen for a glass of water, even though I don't really want one. That gives you two minutes to make up your mind.” Then I took a deep breath. “I love you,” I added softly. “It's important that you know that.”

She frowned, her eyes glossing over with tears. “I know,” she returned. “I love you, too.”

I turned away, unable to continue looking into her tear-filled eyes, and walked into the kitchen. Sixty seconds later I heard the front door click shut. My entire body went numb, because I knew that this time, there was no way I could forgive her.

Now I'm staring down at my cell phone, my eyes continuously scanning the series of numbers she'd programmed under her name. I hadn't called any of them yet, and after suffering a mostly sleepless night, I was wondering if I even should. I knew that I was probably naïve for thinking she could offer me any kind of closure, and that our dinner could in fact end very badly. I also knew that despite my inability to fathom forgiving her for hurting me countless times, and no matter how predictable she was, she was also still a good person. This was the lingering thought that would inevitably convince me to call her by the end of the night.

I sighed heavily, slipping my phone back into my pocket and switching my gaze to the busy streets of Little Italy just outside the bistro's large double windows. Lorelei West was due to arrive any minute, and I'd already decided at least six hours prior that I wasn't going to tell her about running into Eliza. I certainly wouldn't lie to her if she inquired about her, but I had no intention of explaining how unnerving it was to see her daughter's face again.

My eyes drifted towards the entrance just in time to see her step over the threshold, her blonde hair sculpted into a perfectly tamed up-do. She was dressed to kill in a navy blue skirt suit and a cream-colored blouse, with nude heels. She was also wearing her favorite pearl earrings, the ones Eliza had given her for her 50th birthday several years earlier. I couldn't think of a single occasion that I'd seen her since where she wasn't wearing them.

Eliza could deny her mother's affection all she wanted, but the rest of us knew the truth. The rest of us were just waiting for her to come around.

I stood up, smiling as Lorelei closed the gap between us to embrace me affectionately and press a warm kiss to my cheek. She'd been wearing the same perfume for twenty-six years, and the scent of it brought back more memories than my aching heart could bear to recall out loud. It had been nine months since I'd last seen her, and she didn't look a day older.

“Aslan...” She murmured with content as we pulled away from one another and she gave me a motherly once-over. “Handsome as ever. How's Callie?”

“Growing like a weed,” I grinned. “You look beautiful, although that's no surprise. How have you been?”

She chuckled softly and nodded as we sat down together. “I'm good. The cognitive behavioral therapy conference went well. There are some new techniques that sound very promising.”

“And it ended yesterday, right?” I asked.

Lorelei nodded again. “Yes. I'm in town until Saturday evening. Eliza's in the city promoting her newest novel so I thought I'd try to make lunch or dinner plans with her. Unfortunately, I left her a voicemail last night and she still hasn't returned my call. To be honest, I'm not sure if she's even still here.” A distant, fond emotion clouded her sky blue eyes and she sighed softly. “I was hoping there would come a day that she'd give me another chance, a chance to set things right between us...”

I gave her a gentle, sympathetic smile. It wasn't the first time I'd heard such laments spill forth from her lips. “Eliza doesn't give anyone second chances,” I pointed out. “Not really, anyway. It's just not who she is.”

Lorelei and I both knew that Eliza had always resented her parents. They were, in fact, very proud of her success, although because they initially disapproved of her career choice, she'd been carrying an irrational chip on her shoulder for far too long. Even I'd tried talking sense into her on several occasions, but she had no interest in listening to reason. She had built a bridge between herself and the two people responsible for her existence, and she had no remorse about doing so.

The waitress approached our table then, and I could sense that we were both grateful for the interruption. Lorelei and I agreed on a bottle of cabernet sauvignon to go with our favorite pasta dishes, and once the waitress drifted away again we moved onto more light-hearted subjects. I gave her updates on Callie and my promotion at work, and told her how much we'd fallen in love with the Bay Area. Lorelei then told me about the most recent expansion of her pediatric psychology practice and the purchase of a vacation home in Key West. She and her long-time partner, Henry Adams, were also tying the knot. This, I could hardly believe.

“Married?” I echoed in disbelief. “Really?”

“Yes,” she replied, grinning from ear to ear. “We were thinking next May, down at the new Keys house. I'd love it if you and Callie would come. Walker will be bringing Jane as well.”

Walker was Lorelei's first husband and Eliza's father. He'd been remarried for ten years, and I'd had to fight tooth and nail just to convince Eliza to make a brief appearance at his wedding to Jane. “Congratulations, I'm very happy for you,” I returned enthusiastically. “Callie and I wouldn't miss it for the world.”

“Thank you,” she murmured gratefully, her grin never ceasing. “Now what about you, Aslan? Is there a special someone in your life these days?”

I had to laugh at that. “Other than my daughter, no,” I answered. “I'm not sure there will ever be another Mrs. King.”

“You never know...” she said coyly. “Sometimes life provides you with exactly what you need, before you even realize you need it.”

I shook my head, forcing a wistful smile. “I've been down that road one too many times already,” I countered, unable to hide the bitter edge to my tone.

I should've known the conversation would come full circle. It always did. I'd always hated to admit it, but I knew damn well that Eliza was the one thing we had in common. She was our connection to a past that in some distant way, we would always share.

“People change,” Lorelei suddenly whispered. “I changed. Walker changed. I hold out hope that one day Eliza will change as well, and things will be different.”

I thought of the look on Eliza's face the night before, a rainbow of emotions, all of which I knew too well. “Eliza won't change for anyone. Not for you, not for Walker, not for me and...probably not for Jared Leto, either.”

Lorelei took a slow sip of her wine, considering her words. “My secretary tells me he's an actor,” she eventually commented.

“And a musician,” I added with distaste.

“Have you ever heard of him?”

“Sure,” I shrugged. “I've seen a few of his movies. I think he's a very talented man. I'm not familiar with his music, though.”

“Hmm,” she murmured thoughtfully. “I suppose it was only a matter of time, considering she's been in California for two years now. I can't imagine it's easy to find someone with a 9 to 5 that can handle her schedule. She's always been a night owl.” She took another sip of her wine and gave me a measured look. “You really haven't heard from her since last summer?”

I suddenly became acutely aware of my cell phone, pressed up against my thigh in my right pocket. I realized I could confess recent events to her at this very moment, but I somehow knew that if I did, it would complicate everything for all three of us. “She hasn't reached out at all,” I answered quietly. “But I didn't expect her to, not with the way she left things.”

“Does Callie still ask about her?” Lorelei inquired tenderly.

“From time to time,” I admitted. “But it's my fault. I have this picture from college that I keep on the fridge, from when her hair was longer. I tried taking it down a thousand times, but every time I do Callie notices. Sometimes I'm not sure if it's just that she remembers her face, or if she actually remembers spending time with her.”

“Children have a remarkable ability to recollect some of the most important moments in their young lives,” Lorelei noted gently. “And unfortunately, Eliza is unable to understand the impact she has on the people she crosses paths with. I'm sure that Callie has rather fond memories of her. Perhaps, as she grows older, those memories will fade, but only time will tell.”

I sighed heavily, and then voiced an observation that I'd never confessed to anyone. “Eliza was the closest thing Callie's ever had to a mother,” I whispered. “She's had a handful of nannies with all the moving around we've done, but she's never connected with any of them like she did with Eliza. I just...don't understand how she could just turn away and walk out of a child's life like that without a second's hesitation...”

There. I'd said it. I'd finally spoken the words, out loud, that I'd been trying to get off my chest for the past year. It felt good, and strangely liberating, but also served to fuel the anger I already felt each time I thought of our last encounter in Prague. It had less to do with me this time and more to do with my daughter. I couldn't be sure whether or not Eliza had ever even come close to understanding this, but I had every intention of seeking out such an answer the following evening.

“Aslan...” Lorelei began slowly. “I've never made excuses for her, and that's not what I intend to do now, but I don't think she had any idea what she was getting herself into. The two of you have always been passionate people, and sometimes passionate people don't think things through properly. I know she's always prided herself on being rational but...you both lose all direction when it comes to one another. You've been that way ever since you were children. I've never seen two people so in love yet so destructive when they're together. It breaks my heart and I wish so badly that you could get it right, but at this point I think it's obvious that your obsession with eachother has translated into something unhealthy for your daughter. I understand what you're saying, I really do, but keep in mind that Eliza is not Callie's mother – Julia is. And do you think that Eliza could explain her actions any better than you can? I sincerely doubt it. All this time, it's been impossible for either of you to explain any of the things that have happened in your relationship.” She let out a sigh and her blue eyes grew sympathetic. “Honey...she's just not like you, and I think it's time you accept the fact that she'll never be what you want her to be. What happened last summer is living proof of that.”

I didn't respond as I turned away and gazed out the windows again. I watched a woman on a blue bicycle ride by, gliding along gracefully as if she didn't have a care in the world. I envied her for it. I couldn't recall a single time in my life where I'd ever been carefree.

Lorelei was right. Eliza couldn't give me and my daughter what we needed. She'd never been able to. We were like star-crossed lovers, doomed from the start, and all we've been doing since we were 14 is fighting the fates.

But I knew all of this already, and I'd be damned if I was going to let her have her way one more time.