Author's Note: This idea just came to me when I was talking to my friend. It was originally going to be strictly Mark and "the other woman" (I don't wish to spoil things for you), but after reading "My Mark" by Elephantian, that added a whole new dimension, as you will view below.
Disclaimer: RENT does not belong to me, nor to any of the characters that are featured in this story.
She is there again. In your hands. Your warm, soft hands that had so many times in the past relied on me for comfort in sleep, in waking.
You are always holding her, lifting her with both of your hands, over her cool surface, and you treat her with such love.
Every night you lay her gently at your side, carefully to avoid making even a single scratch.
I was always flung onto a chair, a table, the ground, or even as something to rest her on!
It angered me so, how I was cast aside like an old pair of underwear, no use to anyone anymore, only to be replaced within a couple of days.
Why did you choose her? What is so wonderful about that whore? What is the purpose of her? Has she stood by your side through good times and bad? Was she there when Roger fell into depression after April committed suicide, and you had to make sure he did not follow her into death? Did she keep you from catching hypothermia when you were stood up on your first date? Was she there when your friendship with Benny failed, and it seemed like nothing could ever be right again? Was she even there when you finally left your parents' house, and felt free for the first time in your life? Did she comfort you through Maureen, Nanette, and Maria-Suzanne?
The answer? Well, obviously, it is no. Why else would I even bring up any of these points?
"She's fragile," you say. "A drop can kill her," you say. "She needs me more," you even have the gall to say. Well, I may be resilient, but even I can become tattered and threadbare.
Why can't you ever tell me, "I appreciate you"? OR, even, "I need you"? Why do you lavish all of your attention on her?
Even Roger comments on your love. Is she really so all-encompassing that all other aspects of your life simply fade into the background? You have her, live for her, love her, and hide in her. She makes you blind, Mark. Blind.
Why do you allow this abuse to continue? "She puts food on the table," is always your excuse. Fine. I accept that. But why do you allow work to infiltrate your, no, our, personal lives? If she was really just a way to bring home the bacon, you wouldn't keep her in our bedroom each and every night. Every night, Mark. I don't think I can stand it!
Oh, there you go, with her again. Out the door. And here I lie, deserted on the ground, unloved, a pile of crumbs sitting a mere seven inches away, and OHMYGOD IS THAT A RAT?
And you don't even remember. All you care about is her.
I believe in you, though, Mark! You will come back for me, just like you always do. You will come back, hold me close, and ask, "How could I ever forget you?" Just like you always do.
From my lonesome spot, I hear Roger call out, "Hey, Mark. I think you forgot your scarf!"
And then I wait. Wait for your voice to ring out, and I wait for the sound of your footsteps, rushing up the stairs for me.
And then I hear the sound I was waiting for, that heavenly, mellow sound, your sound that had always soothed me, "Oh well. It's a nice day out, and I have my camera. What else do I need?"
Oh, Mark. How could you? Do I really matter that little?
Even the most trustworthy scarves can become threadbare, you know.
Author's Note II: Revenge of the Geek: What did you think? Too simple? Too complex? Too obvious? Not obvious enough? Loved it? Hated it? Tell me in a review!
Oh, and if I get enough encouragment, I might be inspired to change that "Complete" status, and add another chapter from the opposing point of view. Good idea? Horrible? Please tell me!
