Disclaimer: These characters belong to Jonathan Larson. I'm just having fun with them.
I know this story line has done before but I'm trying my own hand at it. Thanks to Kika as usual.
Quiet. Majority of times I avoid it. The silence overwhelms you and encircles you, forcing you to think and wonder. I don't believe in thinking; I believe in instinct, gut urges. But right now I need quiet. I need to think and wonder.
I can find the inner silence I seek here with the calming sounds of creaking swings and the children's laughter that is carried by the breeze. Slowly I swing back and forth in my swing, my mind going to images of several weeks before.
Crying, I pound on his loft's door. I know that Mark will be there ready to comfort me; to hold me, tell me that everything will be fine, and ensure me that Joanne will take me back. He opens the door just like I knew he would, and just like clockwork I storm into the loft head in my hands. I tell him in between sobs how Joanne kicked me out after I was openly flirting with our waitress at the restaurant. I look up expecting to find his warm gaze but instead his eyes were ice.
"Maureen, I love you and I have never denied it, but I'm sick of you running over here whining about you and Joanne. I can't stand this. It hurts every time I look at you knowing that I can never have you. It's pure agony having you cry and depending on me for one night and then knowing the next day you will leave me again."
I looked up, speechless. This couldn't be my Marky? The sweet, pushover, who always turns a blind eye when I came to him smelling of other's men aftershave? The person I knew who would always be there no matter what? Intrigued I wonder if I could melt this exterior. If he was still mine despite his brave talk. Standing up from I take his head in my hands and bring his face down to mine. At first he resists, but I keep persisting. He growls deep in his throat, and shoves me into his room. It was fast and hurried. Afterwards I left the loft as if nothing has happened, leaving him asleep in his bed. He was wrong; it was not even midnight yet.
Whenever I saw Mark afterwards we acted like nothing happened. Pretend that it didn't happen and maybe you'll forget that it did. Yet something did happen. Something big.