Disclaimer: Rent is Jonathan Larson's.
This story is a sequel to Namaste. It could stand on its own, long as you know what's going on. This is a total AU in which all the Bohemians are, literally, related. Benny, Collins and Joanne are siblings. Benny is married to Alison who has a daughter, Mimi, making Mimi Benny's stepdaughter. Mimi is eleven years old. Joanne is a divorcee with two children, Mark and Maureen. Maureen is almost sixteen, Mark is eighteen. Collins is with Angel. Roger is their foster son. He is almost fifteen.
No, I am not on drugs.
Maureen sat with her legs propped up on the dash. Her cut-offs were short already; dropped from the angle, they bared most of her thighs to the blast of the air conditioner while the sun, through the windows, burned her bare arms and shoulders. She reached into the back seat for the sunscreen, squirted some into her palm and rubbed it onto her shoulders, arms, neck and face.
"Don't forget your legs."
Maureen glanced over at Joanne, who stared steadily at the road ahead, her fingers tightly clutching the wheel. How had she seen? Somehow Joanne always seemed to see, know or sense everything that went on in their home. Maureen was grateful for the reminder about her legs, but she resented it nonetheless, just a lot less grateful when she had to murmur, "Thanks, Mom."
She shook up the bottle and squeezed out a streak of cold lotion across her leg. She shivered and started rubbing it in, then snapped the bottle shut and tossed it into the back seat again. "I still don't get why Mark couldn't come," she murmured.
"Because he needs to take this class," Joanne replied. "He's starting college in the fall, that's a big transition."
Maureen sighed. Yeah, and I'm only fifteen and obviously won't understand anything, so you have to tone it down or Slow Child will get lost, she thought sarcastically. She even toyed with saying it, but just did not want to deal with the repercussions. Joanne would go into major bitch mode, which had been so far avoided this trip. Maureen examined her nails for a moment.
Then she muttered, unhappily, "He doesn't have to."
"Maureen," Joanne said sharply. She immediately felt badly about it. The strange thing was that none of this was Maureen's fault. Mark, the straight-A student, the Ivy man, the boy who never raised a fuss, was at fault. It still was so difficult to believe that Mark was the reason Joanne almost lost contact with her baby brother.
Joanne sighed. "I'm sorry, Ree."
"Don't worry about it," Maureen said. She held up her nails to examine the baby blue polish. Her ring finger on her left hand had a chip. Otherwise, they were perfect.
"He said he'd try to make it out for the weekend," Joanne offered. After a moment, Maureen realized that she meant Mark. She also realized that Mark wasn't likely to make it out that weekend unless Collins, Angel and Roger went home early.
Maureen slipped her feet off the dashboard and sat up straight. The freeway sped by. Signs promised their exit was near. She slipped on her sandals and gathered the ketchup-dappled napkins from the floor and stuffed them into the McDonald's bag. She sucked on the straw and slurped the last dredges of melted ice cubes and something that claimed to be Diet Coke but probably wasn't.
When Joanne pulled off the freeway, she handed Maureen a printout from MapQuest, which made Maureen laugh. "'Cause we only stay here every year, Mom."
Joanne ignored her. She veered off the freeway and drove without looking at the street signs. She knew her way to the house, in fact she probably could have walked it blind, maybe even driven it blind. Joanne would never do a thing like that. The idea was plain foolish. But if, under some circumstances, she had to drive blind, if it was certainly the best idea, if it was somehow safe, Joanne could have done it.
Knowing this, Maureen ignored the directions in her hand. Instead, she stared out the window until Joanne had parked in the driveway, then tumbled out, suitcase in one hand and trash bag in the other. She dumped the trash and ran across the street, flip-flops clapping. Joanne followed after her, more slowly. By the time she reached the house, Maureen was already indoors.
Joanne had just stepped inside and found herself pulled into a hug. She smiled. "Hi, Benny."
Benny pulled back. "Hey, Jo. Come on in."
"Thanks." Joanne dropped her bag on the floor and headed upstairs with Benny. His wife was in the living room, holding their baby. "Hi, Alison." Joanne peered over her shoulder at the baby. "She's beautiful."
Alison smiled. "Thank you. Would you like to hold her?"
In truth, Joanne wasn't sure she wanted to hold the baby. She had never loved babies all that much; even her own had been smelly and noisy and grated on her nerves. She loved them dearly, but they were such little pains at times! But looking from Benny to Alison, she knew the right answer. Whatever Joanne thought about Alison, she would always love Benny.
She sat on the couch. "I'd love to." With the baby safely in her arms, and Alison scared half out of her wits, Joanne asked, "Tom's not here?"
Benny shook his head. "They're running late. Turns out Roger gets carsick."
Joanne couldn't help but ask, "Does he get carsick, or does he get Tom's-bad-driving sick?" and she and Benny both laughed.
Benny was lounged against the doorjamb. "I'm not the one who taught him to drive… if you call that driving!" he retorted, then stuck out his tongue at Joanne. "Anyway, we still have to figure out what to do with everyone. You mind staying with the girls?"
"No," Joanne replied. "But they might." She knew Maureen and Mimi liked to stay up late, playing and talking and painting each other's nails. They seemed to think they couldn't be heard throughout the house, to everyone else's amusement.
Benny nodded. "But if you crash on the couch, we don't have anywhere for Roger."
Joanne shrugged. "Just shove him in with the girls," she suggested. "There's a spare bed."
Alison made a small sound of disapproval. "I really don't think…"
"Why not?" Joanne asked.
"Well… he's a boy, in with the girls, do you really think…?" Alison asked.
It hadn't crossed Joanne's mind that this might be a problem. There were three beds in that room and no door, so nothing inappropriate would happen, and even if it could she trusted Roger and Maureen. "Me, Tom and Benny shared a room whenever we traveled as kids," she reasoned.
Alison hesitated. "Well," she said. She touched her mouth nervously. "Well, yes, but… Roger's…" She gave a superficial cough. "He's a different sort of boy, isn't he?"
Joanne looked at Benny, silently asking him if this wasn't some horrible act. He shook his head, the expected response of just let it go, Jo.
to be continued!
Reviews will be very appreciated!
Also, I'm looking for someone willing to beta-read this story, and if anyone's interested please let me know. It's a bit difficult to explain in a beta request!