You’re still beautiful. Your hair is longer and there is a more mature look to your face but you are still the same Maria that I remember. The Maria whose eyes sparkle when she flashes that special sweet smile that I believed you saved only for me. The same Maria that I loved and will always love, if only I had told you when I had the chance, not before it was too late. If only I had broke down the stonewall sooner and let you in. I curse myself again for wasting that chance and with that the chance for a family, a chance to belong.

I’ve seen my ‘extended’ family but I’m very careful not to let them see me. Max and Liz. Their twins, Morgan and Ashley and their son, Jared. Alex and Isabel. Their sons, Ethan and Connor and their daughter, Taylor, who is the spitting image of Isabel when we first came out of the pods. I only knew Morgan, Ashley, Ethan and Connor. I read Jared and Taylor’s birth announcements in the paper. The kids, as Mr. Evans would say, ‘are growing like weeds’. I’m glad everyone seems happy and healthy.

I’ve even walked by your house during the day knowing that you and your husband are at work. I know your nanny and children won’t recognize me, they never knew me. I glance at your son playing in the front yard and wonder, not for the first time, if that’s what our child would have looked like. I think he’s three and I imagine our child might not have had the dark hair he has, he probably gets that from your husband. I see your daughter sitting in her swing, she is the spitting image of you and my heart aches to look at her. Her little dark blond curls, her sweet little toothless smile, I feel the tears well up in my eyes. I walk by twice knowing that anymore would make your nanny suspicious, but I need to see them, I wish that they were mine, wish that they were ours. Your nanny calls out my name and I start to spin around, wondering how she knows me, but as I turn I see your son running to her. You named your son after me, I knew you would never forget. I continue to walk and wipe the tears from my face with my sleeve.

I think if only I had said something when you told me you were pregnant. I didn’t know what to do. I was overcome with happiness, you didn’t know that did you, of course you didn’t I never told you, I never showed it. Sometimes late at night I would cry, my heart was bursting, I was so happy, I would finally have the family I so desperately wanted and needed, now that I knew there was no other home out there for me. I think you heard me because sometimes I felt your hand on my shoulder and heard you softly say my name. I pretended to be asleep, I didn’t want you to see me crying, I wasn’t ready. If only I had let you in, you would have know how happy you were making me. I just didn’t know how to tell you. I wasn’t used to this emotion, I felt complete, but the walls stayed up I still felt some deep need to protect myself, if only I had let go of that, would we still be together. We’ll never know, I didn’t seize the opportunity when I had it and I lost.

You cried out my name. It was a painful sound, I knew something was wrong, I looked over at you and you collapsed on the floor. I ran to you, tears streaming down my face, I held you and rocked you and softly said your name over and over, my tears fell on your face but you wouldn’t wake up. I carried you to the car and drove you to the hospital. In the back of my mind I wondered if I should take you to Max and Liz’s, but something told me that it was already to late.

The doctor told me you would be fine but unfortunately you had lost the baby. I wanted to die right there. I asked to see you but they said I had to wait, they were still running tests. I collapsed in a chair, my head fell to my hands and I cried. If only I had told you how happy you made me and the baby was going to make us, would you have still lost our child. If only I had committed myself to you instead of holding back. I called Max and Isabel and told them what had happened. They offered to come to the hospital but I asked them not to. Liz came anyway, I should have known she would. The look of worry on her face only slightly dimming the glow of her pregnancy. I glanced at her belly, all swollen with the baby that was due in two months. I choked back a sob and explained to her that I didn’t think she should see you that it would be too hard, she understood. I gave her a quick hug and she left. She told me to tell you she loved you, if only I could have said I loved you. I broke down again in tears the minute she walked back out the door.

A nurse came to tell me I could go in to see you. I quickly wiped away the tears and followed her to your room. I was there for only minutes when you woke up. You looked so confused and you asked me what had happened. I told you the story and as I did I noticed your eyes slowly lose all of their expression. You didn’t cry, you didn’t scream, in fact you had a blank expression on your face. I wanted to comfort you, but you pushed me away. I should have expected it, if only I had done it sooner. I know you blame yourself for losing our baby and I know at times that you blame me. Maybe it just wasn’t meant to be.

We drifted apart soon after. It was almost as if when I finally let my wall down, you built up your own and you refused to let me in. I now knew how you felt when I did it to you. You met Brady and starting dating him, pushing me further and further away everyday. I finally knew what I needed to do. I crawled into your window one night, woke you up and told you that I loved you. I told you I didn’t want to live without you and I was sorry for everything that had happened. You pushed me away and told me it was too late. So I left Roswell.

Now I sit across from your house once again. I notice the lights are all out and I realize I must have been sitting here for a long time. I stand up and rub my tired eyes to, not surprised by the tears on my cheeks. I stuff my hands in my pockets and turn to walk away, knowing I’ll be back.