Sequel to Sacrifices we Made, because so many people asked for it. And yes, Jessica will be making an appearance eventually, I don't know if she's going to be a major character yet, just bear with me.
It's been two years since that horrific day when Mark told me he was HIV positive. We are both still alive and holding strong. Jessica has officially gone into remission and just started studying at a private music school on a full scholarship.
For his last documentary, Mark went inside the life of a stripper. Not literally, but he did some pretty in depth interviews in honor of Mimi. It was so good in fact that he's got several hundred thousand dollars in grants and prizes saved up now. We still live in the old loft though. We're officially together now, rings and everything. It's not easy sometimes but I wouldn't have it any other way.
"Mark?" I called when I exited the bedroom after finding his side of the bed empty. He wasn't in the bathroom or the kitchen either.
No answer. Usually when he went out to film in the morning he left a note. I threw on a sweatshirt before going outside to get a newspaper. Even though Mark was making ridiculous amounts of money now I wanted to get a job just in case. From the time Jessica came home from the hospital to when she started at her new school, I continued her lessons, but now that she was getting real lessons she didn't need me anymore. I missed it, but she deserved a real education now, especially with her talent.
I paid the vendor for my paper and went back upstairs for a cup of coffee while I read the want ads. I was making a list of phone numbers when Mark came back.
"You're back." I said looking up.
"Yep."
"Where'd you go?" I asked, noticing that he didn't have his camera with him.
"I, um, found us a new apartment." He said, ears turning red.
"What!" I exclaimed.
"Come on, it's not too far from here." He said motioning to the door.
As old, dirty, decrepit and unsafe as the loft was I still loved it. We had so many memories here, especially those of April, Angel and Mimi. I could see them all in turn sitting on the ragged couch. How could we turn our backs on their ghosts?
"Mark?"
"Huh?"
"Why?"
Mark shook his head like my statement confused him.
"This place isn't really safe Roger. I mean you can practically taste the mildew, rot who the hell knows how much bacteria that's growing on every surface. Not to mention the fact that the windows are all either cracked or broken. The heater tends not to work even when we do pay the bill and you practically got electrocuted last week just plugging in the coffee pot."
Damn it I knew he was right but it just felt so wrong to even entertain the thought of leaving this place. Mark and I were the only original tenants of the loft left! I got HIV here and I planned to die of AIDS here. I didn't want that for Mark though. He deserved to live so much longer than that. He was only sick because of me.
"Okay." I said finally. "Can I see it first, before we decide on anything?"
"Duh, that's why I came back."
Mark had a bit of an attitude since the whole documentary thing took off. He hated the attention with an unending passion. We actually had a few cases of stalking paparazzi in the beginning, but once they figured out where he was headed they backed off. The only reason he hadn't stopped the whole promotion was because we needed the money in the worst way.
I pulled on my jacket and followed Mark out the door.
"How far away is it?" I said, stuffing my hands in my pockets.
"Fifteen minute walk, but a lifetime away." He quipped.
Rather than make a smart comment I kept my mouth shut. I knew he was just trying to do the right thing for us.
When Mark said "a lifetime away" he wasn't kidding. The buildings were suddenly beautiful. No spray paint blemished the crimson brick facades, windows sparkled in the sunlight without the layers of dust and stains I remembered from the loft, the sidewalks had trashcans, and people actually used them instead of chucking anything and everything on the street.
"It's just up here." Mark pointed.
I followed him up smooth concrete stairs to a white door in which he stuck a key.
"It's on the top floor so we've got the same roof access we had at the loft." He muttered before starting on the stairs.
"How many floors are there?"
"Five."
So we hiked up five flights of stairs. It was no where near as high as the loft was. One thing I could be thankful for at least.
"It's apartment five C." Mark huffed when we reached our floor.
The hallway was neat and dimly lit. Red carpet lined the floor and the walls were painted a cool charcoal grey. The door was a similar color with silver lettering. Mark unlocked the door and motioned me inside ahead of him.
It was a third of the size but five times the quality of the loft. The floors were all carpeted noncommittal beige with equally bland walls aside from the kitchen and bathroom that had shiny tile floors. Rather than a fire escape we had an actual balcony, but it was roughly the same dimensions. There were two bedrooms, both had nice sized windows that let light in. It still felt too small to really be home. I still didn't know if I could do it. Mark obviously sensed my hesitation.
"We don't have to take it."
I bit my lip.
"It's not that it isn't great, hell I never thought I'd live somewhere this nice ever again but…"
My brilliant filmmaker put his arm around me.
"I know it's going to be hard to say goodbye to all the memories we had in the loft but we can take them with us."
At least he understood my dilemma.
"Mark. Do you really want to do this?"
"Yes."
We signed the papers that evening and began the chore of sorting through the junk we'd collected since moving to the city.