Stolen Moment
Disclaimer- Jonathon Larson, thank you for creating this wonderful piece for all of us to enjoy
Maureen had never liked holding hands. She was more one for making out, and she nearly always in the mood for sex.
"I am a deeply sexual person." She stated one day, standing with her hands on her hips. Mark was left on the couch, cheeks flushed, lips slightly parted, and eyebrows knitted in confusion.
She said it as if meant she couldn't hold hands. Surely it wasn't one or the other.
They had been kissing- one simple kiss from him to her, and she suddenly pulled him in for a fiery duel of tongues. Mark broke away and tried to lean back on the couch cushions. He reached for her hand, but Maureen made an impatient noise, stood up, then informed him of her deep and sexual nature.
And then, last week, she had come home from yet another failed audition and he had dinner prepared. True, it was only grilled cheese with a small fruit salad (made from canned pears, peaches, and oranges) but he thought it was something that might be nice for her to come to. He even had a small bundle of flowers (picked off of some wild vines he passed on the street) laid on the table.
She came in, threw her keys onto the counter, and switched in the light, ruining the effect of the candles. (Last night, after passing the girl below on his way up to the loft, he blushingly asked if he could borrow some of her candles for a romantic dinner- she lent them to him, winked and wished him luck with his evening). Maureen didn't notice the way he had set them up so carefully for a romantic glow, and though Mark tried to stop her, she was already in the other room, cursing.
"I need a hot shower and a good fuck." He heard her say, but he called her back in.
"What?" she snapped, though the dramatic effect was lost by the exhaustion in her voice. He wordlessly held the flowers out to her, and she slowly accepted them, then looked at the sweetly simple dinner he had put together. Maureen was very still, clutching the flowers. Mark turned of the light, then noticed the sudden tears in her eyes that gleamed as the candlelight shone on them.
"Mark…" she began, and he went to her, kissing her on the cheek. Maureen turned and parted her lips, pulling him roughly to her, but Mark pulled away. He noticed the look of annoyance rising in her eyes and quickly laced their fingers together.
"Isn't this nice? We don't have to-"
Maureen pulled her hand away, and took a step back, grabbing her car keys as she did so.
"What are you- a fourth grader?!" she snarled, stalking out the door.
But now, a half hour ago, Mark had gotten a call from a very drunk, crying Maureen.
"Marky, come pick me up please? I left my car at the audition site." She hiccupped in her tears. He knew it was a lie. He had seen her vibrant red car parked overnight in front of some talent's agent's house a few block's over. He had passed it while he was out filming one day. But, in his usual way, didn't say anything about it to her. "And I need to get home. Pookie, I'm scared."
Of course he agreed- he didn't ask anything other than the address. Mark didn't ask who the man was that answered the door of the house playing loud music, or why Maureen was stumbling drunk, or who's number was scrawled on her palm, or who's lipstick- lipstick!?- was marking her neck. Instead, he led her to the bus station, helping her as she tripped on the curb.
"Yes Maureen, I know you love me," he answered quietly. "I'll never leave you- I love you too, it's okay."
Mark reached for her hand, but she snatched it away, grumbling, "Don't you try that with me! It's been a long night, and there's just been so much- too much- and, and, oh, Mark."
She staggered into the bus seat and slumped against Mark once he was beside her. Mark sighed as she made herself comfortable against him, and he put an arm around her shoulders. Maureen was completely passed out by the next stop, and Mark stole a glance at her face.
Maureen looked softer when she was asleep, somehow sweeter and younger. Her features were relaxed, her eyelashes stiff with mascara, her lipstick smudged and faded. Mark tentatively reached for Maureen's hand, then gently linked his fingers through hers. Maureen's hand instinctively curled around his, her thumb pressing in, securing the loose grip. Mark turned his head, smelling her hair- it stank of alcohol, cheap cologne and her strawberry shampoo- then kissed her cheek and sighed.
It wasn't her fault- she jus wasn't inclined towards such innocent acts of affection. This tender moment wasn't nearly enough- it was only a fraction of the warm, caring contact that Mark longed for. But, for now, the moment was his.