[Author Notes- This is just a rough copy; it still needs
quite a few additions and changes. I
never owned any of these characters, won't pretend to-they belong to the late,
amazing Jonathan Larson. Thought I'd contribute my thoughts on what could have
happened after the end of Rent. Despite
the 'happy ending' of the musical, I believe that little has changed for
Mark. He manages to finish a film but
what else is there for him? I can
imagine him returning to his state as that during Halloween but taking it
further. Comments would be appreciated]
{Roger}
"Where is he?"
Collins asked aloud.
Why
can't they just have patience like normal human beings? Yea, Mark should have been home almost an
hour ago but his plans could have changed since we last talked. He hasn't been speaking to me much, since
Mimi's death shortly after the New Year.
Although we didn't have much time with one another, I know that Mimi
died content knowing that she was loved.
I've mourned the loss of her, but since her death Mark has detached
himself from life even more. Our
friendship, once indestructible, has become more strained with each passing
death. He won't tell me what's going on
and I feel as if I'm at my wits end.
Mark
thinks that we don't care about him; that he's unimportant. It's the exact opposite-he's such a vital
part of all our lives that for him to even think he's not loved hurts. Which is why I decided throw a surprise
birthday party for him. I've been
secretly making plans for this night for several weeks; saving money, calling
everyone, trying to make sure he realizes just how special he is. When he woke up this morning, I knew he was
hurt when I didn't mention his birthday but I couldn't let on that I knew for
fear I'd end up telling him the truth.
The pained expression in his eyes spoke volumes, but I hope he realizes
how hard it was to stay indifferent and forgives me.
"I
just hope he likes the new camera. You
had no idea what I had to do to get that thing…" Maureen mutters. We had all been pooling our money together for
the past couple of weeks to buy Mark a camera that he's been ogling for months. Maureen had somehow managed to get the
camera for less than half of its retail price; something of that quality cost enough
to live on for half a year.
"Honey,
how exactly did you manage to get such a great deal anyways? You still haven't told me that story."
Joanne's eyes got a jealous glaze, but her deep laughter spoils the image she
had been trying to create.
We
all sit around talking about the current state of our lives for quite a bit,
but the conversation eventually turns to Mark.
Everyone reveals how they met him and how he's changed his life, but
such a downbeat conversation suddenly turns into an unsuccessful attempt at analyzing
all his faults. Before long, all
conversation ceases as we find it to difficult to continue talking while we're
laughing so hard. Despite the fun, our
family is incomplete without Mark and I hope he realizes just how much we all
need him.
{Mark}
I
don't know what made me pause in front of the door before entering. Their mingling voices conjoined with
laughter bring a smile to my face. I
haven't been the happiest person lately; maybe they can give some meaning to
this empty life. But as I prepare to go
inside, I realize that it's me they are laughing about revealing how big of a
sham I am- making a joke out of my life.
The door cowards behind me as I clutch my camera in my arms like a
loving father. My heart echoes in my
ears, body becomes unusually cold. I
have nothing, except for the small solace I find through my camera. But even the blinking record light laughs at
my feeble attempts at creativity. Their
laughing voices, mocking my whole livelihood seems like it's increasingly
louder, despite the walls and my statuesque pose. I try to ignore all the feelings inside as they express their
true opinions of me, but I can't connect my mind and my body. They are all in
there having a great old time talking about how much they can't stand me,
wishing I was never around, making a mockery of everything I find sacred. They never cared about me it was all a
charade, but deep inside I think I knew it all along. My only solace, my camera, suddenly isn't important any
more. I never thought it was possible to feel so completely alone. I finally will myself to move, dropping my
camera with a loud thud, before fleeing into the treacherous city I called
home. What kind of home is it where all
you can think about is leaving or just giving up? I have to get away-I can't take any more…
{Roger}
A
loud noise outside of the door finally interrupts the jovial atmosphere. We all scamper off to our designated hiding
positions, waiting for him to walk through the door. But the stunned expression on his face never happens; instead the
pounding of feet in the stairwell followed by the slamming of the door below
reverberates throughout the entire building.
Maureen
was the first to respond, "Damn! Someone was angry…Wonder who that could have
been? I wish he'd get here already-I
don't think I can hang around this place much longer."
For
some reason something doesn't feel right- I can't put my finger on what exactly
but my heart is telling me something's wrong.
I walk across the room to the door; grasping the handle, which is
unusually warm, before pulling open the door.
No one's in the stairwell, but I notice something in the corner next to
the door. I reach across to pick it up the
black object noting the familiar shape.
SHIT! The realization finally
hit's me-this wasn't just any old camera but Mark's camera, the camera he
hardly ever lets out of his sight much less leave lying around in a stairwell. I try to recollect what could have caused
Mark to drop the camera, but all that comes to mind is… I don't think of
anything else as I dash down the stairs and out the doorway screaming his name. Mark dropped his camera, the only thing that
matters to him I can't imagine how our conversation must have sounded from his
perspective-he thinks we don't care, that we hate him-shit…
{Mark}
As
I run away, I hear Roger's voice screaming for me to stop, that it was all a
misunderstanding but all I can think of is getting away. My feet take me further away at a pace
faster than any record I broke in track during high school. I don't stop until breathing becomes so difficult
that I have to stop. Every breath is an
effort and I begin to feel lightheaded.
Sweat steams up my glasses and but I can't see through my tears anyways. I lean against the side of an old warehouse,
letting my feet fold beneath me. Why?
What did I do to deserve all this misery?
I have no hope-nothing can ease the pain inside. There are only two options: I leave New York
for a life of pain somewhere else or I end all this pain now. The choice is easy to make-
My
whole body, damp from perspiration and crying, begins to shake as the cold air
rushes over. I find the strength to
move and set about to find the one who can ease this pain. I walk several blocks, before I see him
sitting under the overhang of a magazine stand, hidden in the dark. As I approach him, he stands giving me a
look of pure disgust- similar to the ones I've always kept for him. After seeing the power he held over Roger
and Mimi, it still seems strange for me to be searching him out. I look into his dark eyes before mumbling, "Hey."
"Ah-
Mr. Movie Man never thought I'd see a day when you came to me. What, Mimi or Roger couldn't come on their
own so they sent you as their errand boy?" he leers back.
"Mimi's
dead and Roger is still clean. This-this…this
is for me. I don't got much cash but I
need whatever I can get."
His
laughter mocks all the times I pestered Mimi or Roger about their drug usage. "I'm
sure we can work something out. We're
both business men now aren't we?" He
leads me away asking, "What do you need?"
"Something
to make this pain go away…I don't want to feel anything…"
As
I walk through the street a little while later, I finally am able to feel some
peace. I make a circle around St. Mark's
Place, pausing to ask forgiveness for what I'm about to do, before finally
making my way back over to Tompkins Square Park. This late in the evening the chess tables stand empty and I'm
able to find somewhere to be alone without little effort. I push all my thoughts of friends and family
away, silently telling myself that I'm completely alone-that I can do
this. After watching both Roger and
Mimi do this in the past, I know what I should do, but the needle still stings
as it enters my pale, quivering arm.
Before I can change my mind again, I push until every single drop is
gone. I let it all fall to the ground
and clutch my coat around my shoulders.
Closing my eyes, I let my pain fade away and await the end.
{Roger}
Where
the hell can he be? Everyone has been
searching for him for a couple hours now and there has still been no sign of
him. My eyes burn, as I try to push
away tears yet again. Somehow my path
leads me to Tompkins Square, sitting down, I finally allow myself to think
about what has happened. Mark must have
heard us talk about how much we hated him not how much he mean to all of
us. He couldn't see our faces to know
it was all a joke, so he ran. If I could
only have stopped him, he would have realized just how miscued his belief
was. I just hope I can find him before
he does something too rash.
A
familiar whimper nearby pierces my thoughts, bringing me back to reality. I call his name softly before allowing
myself to stand. I follow the sound as
it leads me around the dog path to where there's a bench under a large tree. A body is curled up on the bench hidden in
the shadow of the tree, and as I approach I notice the plastic sack on the
ground lying next to a needle. Please
god, no- My hands begin to shake and I tell myself that it's not him, but
looking down I notice his very familiar coat and scarf. Reaching out I try to turn him around, but
his body begins to convulse beneath my hands.
I can't seem to stop what's happening, so I grab his listless body and
carry him until I'm capable of no more.
I can' think of anything else except bringing him back. I don't care if I'm screaming, crying, look
like an idiot; all I care about is that Mark is okay. Oh God, please let him live…
{Mark}
Suddenly
Roger is here and I feel him carry my body trying to maintain some sort of
composure. I'm finally placed down on a
soft surface and I hear him pleading with me not to give up. "Fuck Mark-you can't be doing this!" he
screams as he shakes my convulsing body.
His eyes agape with terror and anger flash before mine. He pounds on my already limp shoulders
attempting to stop the inevitable. It's
too late for his sympathy and apologies now.
His pleading face-the last image before it all goes black. The noises buzz around my head, but become
are an afterthought in comparison with the sensations that shoot through my
quivering body. My body is shutting
down, but my self-loathing still remains telling me to give up like the quitter
that I am. For some reason despite
everything his screaming voice gives me a perverse sense of satisfaction-funny
you have to die for someone to care about you.
"Wake your ass up- come on Mark breathe-don't give up this easy. Fuck you Mark! You can't leave me like Mimi
and April! Dammit! SOMEONE? ANYONE?? We
need a doctor! Mark! You can't leave me
like this-fuck-come on you can pull through this-how could you do this to
me? Stay awake-it'll pass-don't give
up-oh god, please not yet."
[Could it go on as a series?]
