The girl raised her clenched fist to knock on the door of the loft, inwardly berating herself.
She never knocked.
She was too confident for that.
So, then, why was she feeling so nervous?
"Marky?"
Mark glanced up. Roger was sleeping as usual, and he was surrounded by bits of his camera, also usual. "You don't need to knock, Maureen."
Maureen grinned, and turned the doorknob. "I was just being polite."
"Yeah, right. What's up?" Mark asked, distractedly searching for the battery. He'd had it a second it ago.
His hunt was interrupted when Maureen sat on his lap, swinging one leg over so that he was trapped.
He smiled at her, of course, pushing his glasses up on his nose.
Maureen didn't say anything, just pulled him to her, and kissed him. She suddenly felt like crying…
Mark pulled on one of her curls. "You've said exactly six words. That isn't like you. Speak."
Maureen drew a breath, lowering her gaze. "We need to talk. About us."
"Oh," Mark replied, softly. At least she hadn't written a 'Dear Mark' letter.
"I've found someone." She said, calmly, as if telling him the price of bread had just gone up.
"Yeah." He said, equally calm, though he felt like he'd smashed into a million pieces all over the loft. "So, who's the lucky guy?"
"Well, that's the thing…. The guy's a girl."
"Oh, *god*," Mark moaned. Unable to move, he lay back, crunching a piece of his camera beneath him. It didn't matter anymore.
"It was kinda funny…" Maureen told him, nervously giggling. "She tried to pick me up at a bus stop."
"I turned you into a lesbian!" Mark groaned, covering his eyes with his arms.
"Mark, I love you, I do, but if this is who I am, it's who I am."
"Oh." How articulate he was. It was a good thing she couldn't see him crying… she would laugh. Yes. She would laugh at him. "Is she better in bed than me?" He was serious.
"Mark!" Apparently, the answer was yes.
"Maureen…" he was pleading. Why was he pleading? "I love you!"
"Good bye, Mark."
He didn't even feel her leave, just heard the click of the door. And for the first time since he was six or seven, Mark Cohen burst into tears.
She never knocked.
She was too confident for that.
So, then, why was she feeling so nervous?
"Marky?"
Mark glanced up. Roger was sleeping as usual, and he was surrounded by bits of his camera, also usual. "You don't need to knock, Maureen."
Maureen grinned, and turned the doorknob. "I was just being polite."
"Yeah, right. What's up?" Mark asked, distractedly searching for the battery. He'd had it a second it ago.
His hunt was interrupted when Maureen sat on his lap, swinging one leg over so that he was trapped.
He smiled at her, of course, pushing his glasses up on his nose.
Maureen didn't say anything, just pulled him to her, and kissed him. She suddenly felt like crying…
Mark pulled on one of her curls. "You've said exactly six words. That isn't like you. Speak."
Maureen drew a breath, lowering her gaze. "We need to talk. About us."
"Oh," Mark replied, softly. At least she hadn't written a 'Dear Mark' letter.
"I've found someone." She said, calmly, as if telling him the price of bread had just gone up.
"Yeah." He said, equally calm, though he felt like he'd smashed into a million pieces all over the loft. "So, who's the lucky guy?"
"Well, that's the thing…. The guy's a girl."
"Oh, *god*," Mark moaned. Unable to move, he lay back, crunching a piece of his camera beneath him. It didn't matter anymore.
"It was kinda funny…" Maureen told him, nervously giggling. "She tried to pick me up at a bus stop."
"I turned you into a lesbian!" Mark groaned, covering his eyes with his arms.
"Mark, I love you, I do, but if this is who I am, it's who I am."
"Oh." How articulate he was. It was a good thing she couldn't see him crying… she would laugh. Yes. She would laugh at him. "Is she better in bed than me?" He was serious.
"Mark!" Apparently, the answer was yes.
"Maureen…" he was pleading. Why was he pleading? "I love you!"
"Good bye, Mark."
He didn't even feel her leave, just heard the click of the door. And for the first time since he was six or seven, Mark Cohen burst into tears.
