Who Are You?
Jessica Dawn
-Post-RENT-
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"You just don't get it Mark, do you? You still hide behind that fucking camera of yours… Why? What the fuck are you so afraid of feeling? Are you even capable of feeling anymore? You don't love anybody or anything… Oh, except your camera… And you don't get mad at anyone or any- Oh wait! You get mad at your camera… What the fuck do you do Mark? How do you do it?"
"Roger… You… You wouldn't understand…"
"Understand what, Mark? That you're too busy detaching yourself from everybody to the point that your closest friends don't even know who you are? I'm your roommate and I couldn't even guess what your favourite colour is. You never open up to anybody."
"…"
"And then when somebody throws the fact that you fail at life back in your face, you shut the fuck up. You obviously know something is wrong, you don't try to defend yourself. Don't you think it's about time you made some fucking changes in your life?"
"I'm going out…"
"That's right Mark… Run away… Oh, what's that I see? Taking the camera with you?"
---
The sounds of his last words were enough to push me over the edge. Every single time we fought it was over my camera. Or over me. But always the camera got dragged into it. Did he really hate it that much? Was the camera the source of all of my misery? Because damnit, Roger had a way of making it seem that way.
I wanted the fights between us to stop, I wanted it to stop so desperately, that I could've sworn I was having an out of body experience. I don't know what made me do what I was about to do… I can't explain the thought process. All I know is that one second my hand was pulling back, camera in it, and next thing I knew, the camera was flying across the space between me and Roger.
Freeze. The camera that meant so much to me, and it hadn't even taken a split second for me to decide that it was worthless, and fling it at somebody. The camera that I'd made my life, and I just picked it up and threw it at Roger. There's symbolism in that somewhere… But I'll be damned if I know what it is right now. The anger pumping through me is still way too much. I couldn't figure out just what that meant right now if I wanted to.
Unfreeze. I can't do anything but watch with tears welling in my eyes as Roger ducks slightly, and the camera hits the wall behind him. I can watch as the handle snaps off, and the lens shattered. Two of the side panels fell off, and the reel that had been feeding through it unwound, and shot about on the floor. Part of me was glad I'd done it, but I knew I'd regret it, if not now, eventually.
"There you go, asshole. There's the fucking camera. It's always about the fucking camera, right Rog? It's all yours now." It was all I could manage through my anger and sadness to flow from my mouth, as I slammed the loft door closed and raced down the stairs.
As soon as I reached the front door to the building, I regretted leaving in such haste, but I couldn't exactly go back now just for a coat. The thin long sleeved shirt I was wearing did little for January in Alphabet City. Little at all. Couple with a pair of worn jeans, a hole torn across one knee, and a pair of… Fuck, slippers? I was cold. That was all I could be sure of. My glasses steamed up as I moved out into the street trying to make light of the argument.
I never could figure out why he got so mad at me. Or why he always got upset whenever I moved into my bedroom to work. I couldn't focus in the living room with his guitar playing, and Marking off frames meant a lot of clicking with the camera…
Shit… The camera. Well, he wouldn't have to worry about me hiding behind it anymore. I didn't have a camera to hide behind anymore… Stuffing my hands in my pockets, I picked up my pace, moving through the streets. A glance above, and I could see him standing on the fire escape. He was shouting, but it didn't matter what he was saying right now. He had pieces of my camera in his hands. It really had shattered. If comforting me is what he was trying to do by having it in his hands, he was failing.
Who really gave a fuck right now though. I couldn't stand the loft anymore. I couldn't stand being part of the family right now. Everybody'd started to get on my case. A break was what I needed right now, and whether or not I was warm, or had a place to go, a break was what I was taking. No Roger, no Mimi… No AZT, no… Anything. Not even a camera. Just me. Mark.
---
I didn't understand what was going through Mark's mind when he stood at the door. Something I'd said had struck a nerve. You could literally see the moment he'd made the decision to throw his life at me. The camera was so much more to him than a hobby. It was his life. Everything seemed to go in slow motion as it moved through the air, and really, being knocked out by Mark's camera was not on my to do list for now, or any time in the near future. I almost wished I had let it hit me instead though when I saw it break upon contact.
Mark was shouting something at me, but my mind couldn't wrap itself around the situation right now. Mark's camera was in pieces and…
I jumped slightly as the loft door slammed shut. Mark. Where did he go? I raced through our home, hoping he'd just run off to his room or something, but no such luck. Fire Escape. That was another option. I grabbed the pieces I could to his camera as I ran to the window and climbed out onto it. He was down in the street. "Mark! Come back! I can… fix it! I think… Please Mark! Don't do this… You're gonna freeze your ass off and you don' even have shoes on. I didn't mean it Mark! Come back please!"
But he didn't listen. Figures. I guess I'd finally managed to open my mouth and stick my foot in. How the hell were we going to fix this one…?