Santa Fe Fling Chapter 1:
I know that Roger's supposed to go to Santa Fe and then pretty much immediately return to New York City but I decided to make it as if he's there until a few days before Christmas so that this plot could fold out! Read/ Review, much better (and longer!) chapters to come! Thanks, enjoy!
A light breeze passed through the Villa Linda Park in Santa Fe, New Mexico. It shuttered through the blonde hair of a young man sitting on a wooden bench, a guitar in his hands. His fingers pinched the pick and ran it up and down the strings. He hummed a few notes and then played them, and then thought for a few moments about lyrics, and then whisper sang them as he played and then would sigh and shake his head and try again. Roger was defeated, he was staying in a hotel for now, and had been in Santa Fe for about 2 weeks. All he did was play his guitar and try to write a song. He had thought that being away from the stresses of Angel's death, and Mimi's drugs, and Mimi's sickness, and Benny, and his fights with Mark would help his inspiration but having them in the back of his mind only gave him writer's block. Roger watched a few woman pass by, reminding him of Mimi with her long flowy, curly dark hair, and smoldering eyes. He remembered the heartbreak that swam in them the day that he had left. He regretted leaving, and wished he could have faced his fears, and stuck by Mimi, and not be the coward he was. Roger thought of his friends and wondered how they were. He could only hope. "I can only hope." He muttered and gently played a few notes and then sung "I've missed you since I walked out, and you're all that I think about, I've missed you since I took the high road, and you're doing fine, I can only hope." He sighed "Disastrous." He muttered. All of a sudden, a face caught his eye that walked by and he shot his head up "Mimi!" He said but her face was nowhere in the crowd. "God Meems." He muttered sadly, she was everywhere. Because she was his everything. Roger took his pick and stroked some notes "You're my air, you're my dreams, you're my strength and hope, god I hope you know, you're my happy ending, you are my everything." He sung lightly. Something about all the songs we wrote just wasn't right. He put his guitar back in his case and flung his leather jacket over his arm and walked back to the hotel.
"Mr. Davis…" The small, brunette man at the check in counter said as he walked in.
"Hm?" Roger asked walking over.
"You have a postcard… from a .... Mark Cohen." He said, handing Roger the card over the counter. Roger took it
"Thanks" and headed to his room. He flung his jacket over the small couch and put his guitar on the floor and then his beeper went off. He groaned and slipped a pill in his mouth, followed by water and then sat down to read the card. The front of it was a photo of graffiti on a New York brick building, and read New York City across the top. Roger flipped it over and began to read
Roger,
I thought you'd like this picture, remember when we first moved to New York after high school and thought we were so cool graffitiying every building in site? Those days were fun. I just wanted to make sure you were safe, take your AZT man. Please tell me you're okay, I'm worried sick.
Love you man,
Mark
Roger sighed heavily again, he'd been doing a lot of that these days. He did remember when Mark and him would head out of their grungy apartment at night and spray paint in all of the alleys. He remembered they thought they were such cool rebellious kids, but they were such wimps. They'd pass the strip clubs and the junkies every night but were always to wimpy to try the drugs, until April came along. He missed those days. Roger thought about the sad significance of Mark's last line. "I'm worried sick." Roger was the one that was sick, not Mark but he knew that was exactly what worried Mark. Roger grabbed a postcard from the drawer, he sent a lot to his paranoid Mom and addressed it to Mark and the loft.
Mark,
I've been taking my AZT, don't worry. I'm fine, and yeah those days were fun. Say hi to the gang.
Love,
Rog
Roger couldn't help but feel bad about Mark's constant kindness and caring. They had shared the heating, accusing argument before Roger left but they'd also had quite a few disputes over the phone, one always hanging up on the other. Like the one 5 days after Roger left. . . . .
RING! RING! Roger got up from eating his cereal and picked up the hotel room's phone. "Hello?"
"It's me Rog."Mark said.
"Hi man."
"How is it out there?"
"Nice restaurants, nice weather. It's good I guess."
"You guess?" Mark asked.
"It's not home."
"So come home."
" I can't Mark."
"She needs you, we all do Rog." Roger didn't say anything. "Withdrawal was hard for her with you by her side, can you imagine how hard staying clean will be for her with you gone!? Please Rog…"
"You don't get it Mark! I can't watch her die!"
"Maybe if you were here instead of running away you could help her get better, she just went into rehab, for you!"
"She shouldn't be doing shit for me, I'm not coming back." There was a small silence before Mark said gently
"I miss you."
"I miss you guys too, I'm sorry."
"Are you taking your AZT?" Roger didn't say anything, he hadn't taken it in 4 days. "Roger…"
"No I haven't?"
"Why the hell not?"
"I want to die."
"You don't mean that, go shove those pills down your throat and get your ass back up here."
"I'm not coming back Mark! It's too hard!"
"ROGER it's gonna be hard, you need to fucking man up and face this!"
"Don't you fucking tell me I need to man up, just go back to hiding behind that damn camera!"
"And you go wallow in your song lyrics!"
"You're not dying!"
"And if you would take your god damn medicine maybe you wouldn't be so close!"
"Bye Mark." Roger hung up the phone and opened his AZT bottle and shoved it down his throat.
And then there was the one from just 3 days ago…
RING! RING! "Hello?" Roger asked.
"Hey." Mark said quietly.
"Hey."
"What are you up to down there?"
"Nothing."
"Yeah right, you can do nothing in New York too."
"I've already proven that theory Mark." Roger replied, and they both slightly chuckled.
"Please come home."
"I can't."
"You can."
"You don't get it Mark, watching the one person in the world you care about die! Watching them hurt themselves! You don't get it! She's the one person…"
"Nice to know you don't care about me." Mark said icily.
"C'mon Mark I didn't mean it like that…"
"Yeah you didn't, because the one person you care about isn't Mimi, it's not me either, it's you! You ran away for the sake of one person, yourself! You ran away so YOU wouldn't have to feel the pain! Now all of us are suffering!"
"Why don't you stop fucking worrying about me and go find a girlfriend, one that's dying, then maybe you'll get it!"
"I do get it, my best friend's dying!"
"And isn't it ten times easier having me gone and not having to watch me slip away!?" Roger yelled.
"NO! And it's not any easier for you being away from Mimi either! All you do is worry about her I know that!" Mark said back.
"No you don't know that! You think you've seen it all and that you know it all, well you don't because you've only fucking seen it through your camera lens!"
"Well you think you're the one that's always getting let down and hurt, like your life is the biggest fucking tragedy in the world! Well it's not, there's people with lives a lot fucking worse than yours Roger!"
"Shut up you don't get it Mark!"
"Yeah I do!"
"Look man, I'll talk to you later.." Roger began, trying to stay calm.
"Yeah you'll talk to me way later, I'll call you to tell you when Mimi's dead. Actually you know what? You're not even getting a call." And with that Mark slammed the phone down into the receiver.
Roger didn't understand what he had done to deserve a friend like Mark, so forgiving and caring and felt so guilty for treating him the way he did. He grabbed his jacket off of the couch and headed out to the nearest bar.
MUCH BETTER CHAPTERS COMING! READ/ REVIEW/ FAVORITE!! THANKS!!!