"Happy birthday to me…" Mark muttered as he turned the handle on his camera and filmed the empty loft.
It felt no different than any other day. Collins had wished him a happy birthday before rushing off to work. His mom had called and left a message longer than normal. There had been an almost despairing quality to her voice this time that nearly convinced him to pick up the phone…but he didn't.
Mark, Mark… are you there? Mark, happy birthday, Mark. We love you and we miss you so much and we are all here hoping that you are well. We'll blow out candles on a cake for you, Mark, I hope you like your present.
He'd yet to receive a package, but he was sure it'd end up being something he really didn't care to have. Couldn't blame her for trying…
As for his best friend, Mark had yet to see Roger and assumed he was out getting high or with April or both. The last thing he needed on his birthday was to worry about Roger, but then again… this day was just like any other, right?
A knock at the door startled him and he turned to see April walk in, package in hand. She smiled at him, but he could see something off about the smile. Her eyes… Mark watched people enough to know that she was hiding something.
"Hey Mark! Happy Birthday!"
She wrapped her thin, scarred arms around him in a quick, tight hug. He blinked, confused. What the hell?
"Uh…thanks, April."
"Roger told me a couple weeks ago about it bein your birthday today… And I thought I'd stop by and wish you a good one, even though, y'know, things haven't been great between me and him lately.. not really."
"I..I wouldn't know. Haven't seen him in a few days…"
"Oh." April bit her lip and sat next to him.
God...how awkward is this?
"Is something-"
"You'd take care of Roger no matter what right? I mean…even if he hasn't been a real good friend lately. You'd still… you'd look out for him right?"
He felt his heart twist, "I- I haven't done a good job of it lately, but…"
"Oh, no, honey, you have. You've done a lot more than any of my best friends did for me…" April put a hand on his arm, "Roger told me about all those lectures you gave him… how you stood in front of him, tried to fight him to keep him from going out and getting high. Shit..you think that wasn't a good job?"
"It didn't stop him did it?" Mark said, turning from her searching eyes.
What are you looking for?
April tightened her grip on his arm, "You did enough. And you'd do it again, wouldn't you? You'd save him… protect him… You wouldn't abandon him right? No matter what?"
"No. No of course not." He looked back at her and saw the relief wash over her, "April what is this all about?"
And he saw the hesitation in her eyes.
To tell or not to tell…
"I…I just wanted to make sure he had a good friend y'know… to take care of him, a best friend. In case something happened to me, y'know…"
"April what would happen to you?"
She stood suddenly, "I gotta… I gotta go, Mark, but I'm glad. So glad he's got you, y'know…and he is too, even if he doesn't show it."
He knew there was something more. April was not a difficult girl to read, and something was wrong… But Mark didn't press people, he let things go, because when he pressed things like the look in her eyes or the shake of her hands… When he pressed those things he was forced to feel, to deal with issues he'd rather detach from.
April made towards the exit, but turned midway, "Almost forgot. I got you something."
She handed over the package, and Mark took it reluctantly.
"You…you shouldn't have."
His first present…his only birthday present and of all people it was from April.
"It's not much…" She said. "But I thought I ought to give you somethin'."
He opened the package and pulled the navy blue and white striped scarf from within it.
"I thought it could protect you…" She shrugged, "from the cold y'know."
Mark smiled, "I love it…thank you, April."
He hugged her tightly, and she grinned in a kind of shy way that was foreign to her lips. Then she turned and left in a nervous hurry.
I should ask her what's wrong the next time I see her…
But the next time he saw her she was dead and bleeding, covered in red, in the bathroom.
At first he couldn't even look at the scarf without getting nauseous, without seeing her dead, blank eyes, her pale skin torn apart by a razor, without hearing Roger's screams in his head.
But one cold, frosted morning months later, Mark pulled the scarf from under his bed. He looked carefully at the alternating blue and white stripes and he saw her shy smile that day, and heard her voice in his head.
I thought it could protect you.
Mark never left the loft without that scarf again.