[Author notes- I did not nor can I
claim to have wrote Rent. They are sole
property of the late, great Jonathan Larson.
The following is a story a couple years following the conclusion of
Rent. Shall be told mainly in the
perspective of Joanne, along with writings/film from Mark. Comments, reviews, suggestions, etc are
always welcome on all my stories (go back and review some of them) –emily]
The story begins in a library like
room with books on all available shelf space.
In the middle of the room lies a simple oak desk with neatly organized
papers and other random accessories.
There are several chairs located in the room, each disjointed from the
others. A television and vcr reside on
a cart in the corner with '12:00' flashing over and over, urging the inhabitants
to release their rising anger-
"Pardon
me for being late everyone, my ten o'clock meeting ran late." Joanne stated as she observed them spread
around her office. There was a visible
distance separating the once inseparable friends; each controlling their
tempers to prevent the confrontation that was likely to ensue. They all looked at anything except one
another; with the exception of Benny, who strolled the room checking out the
books with a cockiness that had plagued him since before she even knew
him. She grabbed a large overstuffed
envelope before taking her place at the desk, releasing a long sigh that
brought everyone to attention.
"I'm
sure you are all wondering why you're here, so lets just get this thing
started. Ten months ago Mark came to me
and asked me to draft a will, in case anything was to ever happen to him." She
took a deep breath before continuing; "I never imagined that mere months later,
I would be forced to execute his last wishes.
But from what I gather, no one knew of Mark's health problems minus him
and his doctors. This is something that
none of us obviously understand, but the fact is that Mark is no longer with
us. Although this would have normally
been completed, Mark determined that his will would not be read for two months
following his death per his request dated January 8th, 1997."
Glancing
around the room she noticed that her words were having an effect on everyone in
the room. Her own attempts to control her
emotions, to try to remain professional were lost as she observed her
friends. Maureen wrapped her arms
around her body. Benny stood with his
head bowed and shoulders sagging, allowing everyone to see the insecure man
they once knew. Collins unashamedly
wiped away the tears that streamed down his face. Roger looked at Joanne for the first time, and she saw his
anguish reflecting back as he absently shoved away the tears that had begun to
cloud his sight.
Joanne
still couldn't believe that Mark was gone.
She had only known him a few years, but in that time she had discovered
the charismatic, caring individual whose friendship she cherished. She remembered; hearing about Maureen's
doting Mark, their first goofy meeting when he tried to make her laugh despite
taking his girlfriend, all their shared interests from books to movies, the
intellectual conversations they would share monthly, to the friendly banter in
which they exchanged. Only days before
his death she had joked about his weight loss only to have him remark, "Hey!
But I thought girls liked the 'waif-like' look? You mean when I put on a sexy pout and my come hither look, girls
won't just be throwing themselves at me?" all the while, walking around the
room imitating models. Mark always found
a way to make her smile, and every day she wished she could tell him how much
he was missed. Collins coughed bringing
her back to attention at the task at hand.
"So-well…"
"Why
is Benny here?" Roger spat out with a threatening gleam in his eyes.
"Come
on Roger, you know the answer to that without even asking me. Despite everything, Benny was still Mark's
friend. His specific instructions
attached with this envelope are as follows:
I, Mark Cohen, on
this day January 8th, 1997 hereby declare this my final testament
upon death. In witness of my lawyer,
Joanne Jefferson, or another of similar stature this envelope shall be opened
two months following my death with the following present: Benjamin Coffin III, Maureen Johnson, Thomas
Collins, and Roger Davis. Short of
death, all must be present for this act to be concluded. Upon reading of all contents, you may watch
the enclosed tape before going your separate ways.
At the bottom of the page is all
the legal documentation, if anyone would like to look before we continue."
Maureen
chose this moment to interrupt, "I'm really sorry, but is this going to take a
long time? We have already been here
for a half an hour and I am expecting a phone call from my agent."
"Is
that what you call the latest person you're sleeping with?" Benny asked with a
leer.
"Go
to hell, Benny."
"I
am sorry Maureen, but I have to agree.
You can't spare an hour of your time for our friend? Geesh! Come on-for
Mark?" Collins implored, remembering back to the day where he was forced to
break up another fight at his Angel's funeral.
"Well
excuse me for having a life…I loved Mark just as much as the rest of you, but I
have already done that whole mourning thing and don't need any of this bullshit…"
But
before she could continue, Roger fumed, " SHUT THE FUCK UP, ALL OF YOU!" His hands clenched at his sides along with
the menacing tone challenged anyone to defy him.
[Sorry for such a short
chapter. I have so many stories I'm working
on completing right now, but within the next week or so I'll be updating up the
kazoo. This was just something that
came to mind Saturday morning at 4 am.
Does it make any sense or is it worth continuing?]
