Hee. My writer's block is broken! Hurrah!
I've always wanted to write something about Maureen. This was supposed to be a little insight into Maureen and Mark's relationship...but instead morphed into a little insight into Roger and Maureen's friendship or lack there of. Hope you like.
Maureen smiled at herself in the mirror, brushing her hair slowly and carefully. One of those days when even the simplest task took a large amount of time, wasn't it? Mark was out getting groceries, and the notes from Roger's guitar could be heard amazingly well through the wall separating the two rooms.
Prima donna. Diva. Her favorite, post-modern goddess. Roger would tease her, "Maureen the fucking Queen, huh?" That's right, Roger. Royalty at its finest.
Maureen had been contemplating her relationship with Mark for quite some time now. The sweet Jewish boy from next door is totally owned by the drama queen in the suburbs. Who'da thought? She'd never really had a boyfriend like Mark before. He was embarrassed by sex, extremely apologetic, and blushed at every little thing. In fact, Maureen wasn't really sure what way Mark really swung. They could have pretty great sex sometimes, but the way he and Roger acted...something she wondered. She had asked Roger once, when Mark was asleep one morning.
"Roger, are you gay?" It slipped out, an innocent question on a cloudy day. Maureen had sat in silence with Roger (amazing, considering their personalities) until that moment, when she sprung the unexpected question.
Roger looked up at her, an eyebrow raised. "What?"
"Are you gay?" she repeated, her tone unreadable, which was unlike Maureen. You could usually read her well, but Roger was having a bit of trouble figuring out just why she was asking him this.
"What the hell made you ask that?" he said, his voice including the usual annoyance that Roger often seemed to display.
"Just answer the fucking question," Maureen replied, rolling her eyes. "A simple yes or no will do."
Roger shrugged. "I can't help it if I'm universally sexy. My fucking hot body is loved by both girls and boys alike." Maureen sighed. She wouldn't get a straight answer. She could never get through Roger's tough outer layer, much like he couldn't get through hers. Roger and she were amazingly similar, despite protests that the musician might have to that. Sure, on the outside the probably looked like completely different people. But inside...inside they were disturbingly alike.
Maybe that's why she was attracted to Mark. He appeared to wear his emotions on his sleeve, but really it was a cover. The real Mark was hidden, carefully secretive, cautious to let anyone else in. Maureen sometimes felt that Roger really knew Mark, and for that she was resentful to the rock star. She had tried everything to make Mark reveal himself, but to no avail. All she got was a nervous smile, a slight blush, and a thoughtful look at his camera instead of her. She hated that. She wanted something with substance, something she could depend on.
She had been friends with Roger, once. Once. Long time ago. Now he called her a ditzy drama queen, and sneered at her whenever she walked by. Maureen called him named to, stuck her tongue out at him. Yeah, yeah, same at you, bitch.
They never told Mark.
April had gone out with Mark to buy a new outfit. Maureen wanted to go dancing, and Roger agreed that would be a good idea. Mark complained that he had no outfit to go dancing in, and April took his hand. "We'll go get an outfit!" she declared, and told Maureen to stay so the new clothes would be a surprise. Roger didn't want to go, he claimed, because he didn't give two fucks what Mark wore as long as he wasn't naked.
"I wouldn't care if he was naked or not," Maureen said as the door to the loft shut.
Roger raised an eyebrow. "Well, you wouldn't care because you would eventually rape him of all his clothes."
"Rape him of all his clothes, huh?" she repeated, grinned to herself. "I guess you could put it that way." Roger shook his head, and started to play his guitar. "Do you always play your guitar when you're bored?"
"Gotta problem with it?"
Maureen shrugged. "Just wondering."
"Yeah. You've been doing that a lot lately."
"What? Wondering?"
"Yeah. You've been asking me a lot of questions."
"Gotta problem with it?" she retorted, using Roger's own words against him. He smiled, playing the notes one by one.
"Good one, Maureen." She watched him as he played, and if he minded, the musician made no comment.
Of course, this had been before the harsh mocking, before that night that would turn their relationship upside down and twist it into a mild hate that Mark never really caught onto.
Of course they had sex.
It was an accident. Really. They were drunk; Roger had learned that April was cheating on him, fucking someone else. He wanted to get drunk, and brought his friends along for the party. Mark went into the bathroom after dancing on the table singing 'Dancing Queen' by ABBA for quite a while. Mark was in a drunken coma in the bathtub, and they weren't really thinking. Maureen thought about the moments leading up to that, hardly about the actual sex. Could they have stopped it? Could she have not gone through with it...What if they hadn't? Might they be friends?
Oh, all those woulda's and shoulda's and what if's. She shoulda resisted the pull of the alcohol. He coulda stopped hitting on her. They coulda stopped flirting drunkenly once Mark stumbled into the bathroom.
Maureen looked at her reflection in the mirror. Stared at herself staring at herself. But Roger had given her what Mark never could. Passion. Emotion. A feeling of being noticed, being alive. Mark tried. He honestly did. But he could never give her what Roger had given her.
Of course, when they woke up the next day, they both retreated to the opposite sides of the room. Maureen looked at Roger. "Shit. Shit shit shit shit shit. We didn't."
"We did. I wouldn't just invite you to come sleep in my bed naked in the blue," Roger said, and then froze. "Fuck. What about Mark?" Maureen glanced at Roger.
"Fuck. Mark." She started out the door to check on him, but Roger stopped her, placing a light hand on her shoulder.
"I'll go. Mark's used to me walking around like this when I'm drunk. And you coming out like that from my bedroom..." He glanced at the door. "That could be worse than actually breaking the news to him." Really, Maureen didn't mean to hurt Mark like this. The boy was sweet. He just got mixed up with the wrong girl, that's all. They never told Mark. Never. Who knows what fury lies behind that calm exterior? Maureen didn't want to find out. Roger walked out and shut the door. In a minute or so, he opened it back up. "The boy's still passed out in the bathroom. Go into Mark's room and get changed." And she did so, no questions asked.
Mark was never the wiser.
After that, Roger pulled away from Maureen, and Maureen pulled away from Roger. Together they hurt the thing most precious to them. Roger was the one who started with the nasty comments, and Maureen wasn't one to let him get the best of her. Needless to say, Mark was a little confused about their behavior, but never asked. He probably just assumed Roger did something to piss his girlfriend off, or vice versa. But Maureen would never forget those days when they got along, when everything was sweet and simple. Now, it was all twisted and ugly. Unspoken secrets lurked in very corner, a vile, vicious cloak-and-dagger game. "Who will tell Mark first? When's he going to find out that Roger and Maureen fucked? His girlfriend cheated on him while he was drunk in the bathtub! She was a flirt before, but he never knew that she would actually go for his best friend! Who will tell Mark first, or will he find out on his own?" It didn't bother Roger, but it was slowly driving Maureen crazy. It was one thing to have a one-night stand with some random guy in a bar. It was another to have a one-night stand with someone you lived with.
She stopped brushing her hair. Maureen stood up, and threw the brush at the mirror, the glass shattering under it. A cruel, almost crazed smile curled on her lips. Men. They played a beastly game. Women were much more confrontational, and Maureen liked to confront her problems. Let Mark pretend everything's alright. Let Roger pretend nothing ever happened. Let the men be men. She didn't care anymore.
She had already cheated on Mark. What's one more to add? Let the numbers multiply, baby. Let's rock and roll.
"Where are you going, Maureen?" Mark asked as she came out of the room. Maureen swung her jacket around her and gave him a sweet kiss on the cheek.
"Just out, Pookie. Maybe I'll get us something to eat." Roger gave her a strange look.
"Did you break something? I thought I heard a crash."
"You're playing the guitar," she said, putting her hands on her hips. "You haven't been hearing anything except your own shitty playing." Roger gave her a nice cold glare, but she looked back to Mark. "Want anything while I'm away?"
"Surprise me," he said, smiling like a little child. Maureen kissed him on the top of his head. Poor boy. We shouldn't have mixed, Pookie. Your heart was always mine to break. Maybe you'll get over it in time. I really did love you once.
"I'm full of surprises, Marky," she said, winking as she went out the door. Just wait until you find out.
-fin.