as told by Mark Cohen
18 1/2 years after RENT ends
28 June
I can't sleep, but lately that's nothing new.
Instead, I give up the attempt and get out of bed.
"Mhmm...Mark, honey? You okay?"
"Yeah, Go back to sleep."
"Mhmmm..."
I wait until I can hearher soft breathing before I leave the room. I crack open the door of the room across the hall enough to see that everything is fine in there and I can hear two sets of lite snoring.
I make my way further down the hall. I know the next two rooms are empty, but still I have to look...to know...
His room hasn't changed in seven years. I'm sure if he knew, he'd give me a lot of shit, but I don't care. The guitar still lies untouched on the unmade bed, and the pages of lyrics and pictures are growing dust thumb tacked onto the wall.
The room across from his is the hardest for me, especially right now. Everything in her room meant something to her; from her two favorite pillows, a dark plaid one and a plastic blue one, to the way she placed her pictures on the shelfs. On either side of her bed was a poster of his rock concert and the other was a poster for a film festival I once particpated in.
I look at the clock on the dresser.
12:15
She should be coming home, right now, hurriedly making no excuses but going straight to the apology for being late, for making us worry.
I shake myself.
She's home now.
They both are.
They all are.
Home for them justisn't here any more.
I leave the room and head down stair to the living room. The old film projector is brought out along with a couple of selcted rolls of film. I know I could just put in one of those DVD versions they had made for my birthday, but the projector has always been my prefered way to relive life. I lived through my camera and a relived it through the projector.
I set up the first reel.
First shot...Roger...that day.
I watch as he sits on his normal perch, looking hopeful. It was one of the few times that Roger Davis had ever had any form of patience. He was waiting for her, but he didn't know that then.
The images play on going through the years.
Christmas
Her first birthday
The last time we see Benny...but we didn't know that then...he was proudly showing off the baby.
More funerals
The wedding
I switch reels to a much more recent reel.
The shot opens on a far off shot of her in what became her favorite spot in the last decade. She turns and sees that she is being watched. The film cuts to her and Roger playing a duet outside just after the move. She's laughing as he begins to comintates.
Last shot...the camera sits on her desk facing the bed. She is holding on to me as she cries. I can see now that I wasn't doing a very good job of being strong for her...I was more scared than she probably ever was.
I quickly shut off the the film, and lay against the couch
Morning comes too slowly. I quickly get ready, making sure that I don't wake anyone, then get in the car and head into the city.
I look at the clock
6:48
I'm early. I have time to go check on them.
I arrive at my destination and walk to the familiar row.
"Hey." But I don't expect an answer.
My eys quickly go to each stone in the order they were laid in the ground.
Angel.
Benny Collins Mimi Roger
And finally to the last stone. The dirt had only just been disturbed two weeks ago.
Lily Marie Davis
February 26 1998- June 12 2016
50 percent feline. 50 percent rockstar. 100 percent unstoppable.
No Day But Forever Now
My cell phone rings.
"Hello?"
"Mark, it's Alison."
"Oh, hey. I'm on my way...I just had to make a quick stop."
"Alright. See you soon."
"Yeah."
I hung up. Well, here I go. It doesn't take me long to reach the building.
"Hey."
"Hey. How are they?" She asks, knowingly. She's accompanied me severeal times, and I know she goes on her own, as well.
I nod. "Same. Thanks for doing this."
"I just thought you would want to see it before it was gone."
"How's Thomas doing?"
"Fine, I guess. He's decided he wants to go by Tommy now, because it's what she called him. Other than that he has been very much his father's son."
She opens the door to the now empty loft. The windows have been boarded up and the light barely gets through the cracks.
I breathe and hold the camera to shoot.
So many years and now all we're left with are the memories.
As I remember, as I relive, Alison disappears from beside me along with the boards on the windows. The old, worn out, and nearly broken furniture reappears. The smell of cigarettes and spilt alcohol seems to reappear. I look down, my camera looks less old, and my scarf is less frayed and my jacket is once again plaid and two sizes too big. And Roger...Roger emerges from the hallway. Plaid pants, green pullie, bleached hair and all; guitar in hand. He sets it up, preparing to tune the Fender. He looks up...past me...
"Mark!"
"Mark!"
Author's notes"
Okay, I know I said I wouldn't post this until I had finished "Maybe We'll All See" but I just got so excited. I don't mean to confuse anyone, but it will explain itself as it goes on.
It's post-rent, and the rest of the chapters will begin at the point where Mark's memories have brought him...so it will be about 8 months after RENT in the next chapter.
Disclaimer: I do not own RENT or anything that is copyrighted and currently owned by somebody else...hence why I don't own 'em...
until next time, this is me...signing out...
