Who Are You

Jessica Dawn

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AN: Sorry about the brief wait guys. I'm keeping chapters short in hopes of getting things uploaded quicker, but I took to writing on my computer and uploading on another. Now I'm back on mine, and waiting for a connection. On with the story.

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I'd kept watch on the street below our loft for three days. How the hell could he stay gone that long… Especially in his slippers? I know he has no money on him. His wallet is sitting by the door. But maybe it's time I realized that Mark is a big boy. He can take care of himself, even if sometimes he is rather childish. What adult just runs away at a fight? It doesn't make much sense. But if it's what he feels the need to do, then I guess he can run away all he wants. I'm not his mother. I wouldn't give my Jewish son a hot plate for Christmas.

But whatever. Not my place to start judging his folks. They can't be all that bad if they made Mark.

Still, I just can't help it. I can't even focus long enough to play Musetta's fucking Waltz. I keep hearing his voice every time I touch the guitar. All of a sudden I can realize that he really does listen when I play. Every time I'd play that same wrong note I could hear his voice in my head.

"You're sharp."

And every time I heard those two words, I'd jump and glance up at the door, only to find it just as closed as it'd been when he slammed it. Of course, I'd pick the guitar back up again. I had to write a new song. The thrill I got when I'd finished writing Your Eyes for Mimi was just too much. I had to write more. Maybe then I could afford my half of the rent. Benny's easier on us now about it all, a lot easier, but still… Mark pays for everything. Mark really does a good job taking care of me. Makes me feel like shit every time I realize just how dependant I am on the Jew.

So I'd pick my guitar up again, and start playing, and still, I'd be playing Musetta's Waltz, and I'd still play the same wrong note, and I'd still hear his voice floating at me from the door.

"Try moving up a fret… It goes lower if you're farther away from the hole, right?"

And again I'd jump, and this time I'd have to go over and open the door to make sure he wasn't calling at me from the stairs. He had to come home soon. He's just wearing his fucking slippers.

Maybe I shouldn't be so self-centered though. In three days, I hadn't gotten far at all with Mark's camera. He took such good care of it. Now the film was rolled up at least, on reel, but the camera itself… I hadn't really done much with it yet. Our tools were limited, and fixing it didn't exactly strike me as a simple task. It would be something I'd have to sit down at for a while.

I can't believe I pissed him off that badly. It's the most emotion I think I've ever seen him show, throwing his camera at me. I still don't really believe he did it, but the camera is sitting in pieces on the table, and all it does is remind me that Mark's not here. Mark's out there… with nothing but his slippers. I shouldn't have taken the camera onto the fire escape with me after he left, I should've taken out his scarf, or a jacket or something and thrown it at him. I'm a fucking idiot.

Mark won't come home if he's got a cold… He'd be too afraid to come near me and get me sick. I sighed slightly, giving up for the night and heading back into the apartment. He never came home late if he could help it. I sunk low into an old battered armchair that I think we salvaged a couple of years ago off of somebody's front lawn. One man's trash is another man's treasure as they say, and this was a comfortable chair. A good place for thinking.

"SPEAK"

The phone had been ringing? I didn't even notice.

"Hey Mark… Listen, I'm sorry about the other day… I know you were just worried about me and all but hey… If you're there could you-"

"Hey Mimi…" I let out as I picked up the receiver. "You've heard from Mark in the past couple of days?" I couldn't help but ask before she got the chance to ask for him.

"He called me the day before yesterday to make sure I'd had enough AZT… Why? Hasn't he been home?"

"No… He left three days ago… We had a fight…"

"We did too… We argued over the phone… What happened Roger?"

"You know the stupid thing…? I don't remember what started it… Same as always though… He was hiding behind his camera…"

"How's his filming coming along anyways? Can we look forward to another Christmas Eve screening?"

"I don't know Meems… He kinda threw his camera at me… It's in like a hundred pieces on the table…"

"Fuck Roger… What did you say to him?"

"What did I say to him…? What did you say to him? He might've been coming home if you didn't yell at him on the phone… He doesn't have any money on him. He'd've needed to come home for it to get you pills."

"Roger… I'm not going to fight with you over this. This is stupid. We need to figure out where the hell Mark is." Mimi sounds more than just a little bit dismissive. But she is right. Us fighting now would be bad.

"Yeah… Well he hasn't been around here. I've been out on the fire escape as much as I can be." It's cold out. I can't really stay out all day, but as much as I can bear to be I have been.

"Mark's not dumb though… He'll be taking care of himself."

"Yeah… He's a big boy…" In his fucking slippers. I can't get over that. In a sad way, I find it kind of funny, but then I realize that with the snow on the ground, it's not the best of things.

"Yeah… I'll call up Maureen and Joanne and let them know though… You can call Collins, right?" I groaned slightly. I didn't want the rest of the family to know… I think they'd get kind of pissed off at me if they knew that he left because I wanted to pick a fight. Fuck. I'm actually stressing out over this.

"Can we just kind of keep it quiet for now, Mimi? I'd rather not have everybody know about this right now… For all we know he could've gone home…" Yeah, right. Mark wouldn't go home if his life depended on it. I don't know what the issue is but there's something wrong in the Cohen family. Maybe that's why I don't really like his mother.

"Mark won't go home until Hell freezes over and you know that Roger… We really should call up the rest of us and see if he's with any of them. Maybe they've seen him around. We could ask at the Life Café… I don't know Roger… I'm not good at the finding thing… Who knows… Maybe Benny's seen him… I don't know… Call Alexi?" I'd forgotten for a moment that Mark worked at Buzzline again. Things had gotten to be just too hard to manage around here, stretching money too thin. We couldn't afford for both of us to eat and for me to have my AZT… So Mark decided that his eating wasn't important at first… Then when Alexi called us up, he didn't want to answer. I spoke to her, and I don't really know what happened after that, but Mark had his job back.

"Mimi… I can't make a big deal out of this… I don't want to get anybody pissed off at me right now. Mark's pissed off enough at me for all of you."

"And you seriously think we're not going to get pissed off at you if he dies because you were too worried about your image to go out and fucking look for your best friend?"

"You don't fucking understand, Mimi… You just don't fucking get it. You're too young."

"Don't give me your 'little girl' bullshit, Roger. I'm almost 21. You going on and on, and fucking on about how young I am is just pissing me off even more. You might not want to go out and search for Mark, but I'm not about to let him die because you started something you're not going to fix. Yeah, I had a hand in it, but he wouldn't have had to call me in the first place if you hadn't made him leave."

I heard the loud click as Mimi slammed the receiver down. Then I could hear her yelling in the loft beneath ours. It was frustrating that we argued over the phone, and then I could hear her going on about it downstairs.

"Fucking asshole, I swear to god… Too worried about himself to give a rats ass about Mark… Doesn't care about anybody but April. Live his fucking life for a dead girl. She's not coming back, and he's too busy wallowing in self pity to do anything over it…"

What April had to do with mine and Mark's fight, I don't know, but Mimi had no right to bring it up. I just wasn't about to go downstairs and deal with this now. Mimi is dangerous when she gets like this. I heard her door open, and then slam shut, fumbling with her keys, and everything. The whole nine yards. What was she doing heading out at this time to look for him. He'd be sleeping somewhere, I figured. Again, all I could do was hover at the fire escape, and watch her go out, into the cold after him. Even she wasn't wrapped up all that well, but she'd be better off than he was already. By far. She had a scarf on. And she wasn't wearing her slippers.

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"Eight… One open three eight seven… One open three seven six…" Maybe if I said the frets out loud to myself I'd be able to figure out what I was doing wrong. But again, Mark's voice came from the door to the loft.

"Roger… You're never going to get it right until you move up one fret… It's not six, it's five…"

"Just shut up Mark… I'm the professional… Besides… You're in my head…" At least I looked at the door as I said it… He'd heard me whispering the numbers one night and that was what I suffered through. I didn't tell him how to film. He shouldn't have been correcting my playing.

My beeper went off, and it sounded rather loud. I pushed the button on it so that it wouldn't go off in another five minutes.. AZT time. I had to turn it back on when Mark left. It was the only way I'd know that it was time to take it. I was forgetful. He wasn't. I hate taking the stupid pills. I still haven't gotten the hang of swallowing them dry. I put my guitar down and moved into the kitchen, eyeing the camera on the table. It still hadn't been touched since I'd made mental note to work on it four days ago.

He's been gone a week, and Mimi's gone out looking for him four days in a row now. I couldn't leave the loft. I did come up with reasoning behind it though now. If Mark came home and the door was locked… He wouldn't be able to get in… If he called, he wouldn't leave a message either. He was above those kind of things.

So you see… I couldn't leave. Mark couldn't come home if I went out. I poured myself a glass of water, and took a mouthful as I popped the pill into my mouth, and swallowed. I'd really have to start looking into a way of treatment that didn't require these fucking pills. I hate them.

And I couldn't just go back to my guitar either. Mark's voice was in my head. It wasn't leaving either. I could try my hand at writing a few lyrics, but I had a feeling that wouldn't go too well… Or… I could try and fix his camera.

Why the fuck should I fix the camera now though? I didn't even know if he was going to come back to the loft ever… Granted, I wouldn't be able to live myself if I'd managed to singlehandedly chase him out of my life, but I wasn't about to sit down and do something like that without a guarantee it would ever be used again. I wasn't about to take up filmmaking any time soon either. It being broken would just serve as a reminder that if Mark ever did come back, I'd have something to do. And it wasn't going to be songwriting either.

Just like now. I found myself sitting on the arm of the chair, with a notebook open on my lap, and a pencil between my lips.

And I think this is sort of…

What the fuck was I doing… That wouldn't work. Mark would say it to me right now.

"Those lyrics won't work… You couldn't fit them into a line unless you rushed it. Besides… You don't sing songs about what you think things might sort of be like… You sing about what you know."

"Shut up, Mark." Christ. Saying that made me realize just how quiet the apartment had become. I was telling the voice in my head to shut up. God this was pathetic. But then… My beeper went off again… Did I leave it in the kitchen though? It didn't sound like it was coming from nearby. I got up, and followed the sound of the electronic beep.

It led me to the door, and opening it, to Mimi, half asleep, and half frozen on the staircase. Despite the argument, she was sick. I was worried. Over the course of the last few months, Mimi's HIV had developed. No longer did she suffer from HIV, like me, now she suffered from AIDS, the actual killer. I still had years and years ahead of me. Her getting worse had made me realize just how numbered days really became when your T-cell count was low. In a way, it made me feel kind of alone. I was the last of us with HIV. Collins had AIDS, and it had killed Angel. In a way, I could really only thank Mark for it though.

Mark… Mimi's sick because she went out looking for him… I let my arms travel around her waist, and under her neck as I picked her up, and moved back into the apartment.

"Didn't find him, Rog…" Fuck her voice was quiet. Had she gone out without a coat every day?

"It's alright Meems… Stay quiet…" Maybe it was just that the cold was getting to her. Four days out in Alphabet City… Couldn't be good for anybody.

"S'cold in here…" The heat was on. It had been reconnected a couple weeks ago…

"Yeah… Let me get you a blanket…" I brushed my lips against her forehead… What? It's how Mark always figured out if I was running a fever on my bad days… Easiest to figure out according to him.

"I shouldn't be here, Rog… You'll get sick…" Typical. Worry about everybody else. At least typical of her in the last while. She'd changed after her near death experience. It almost made me feel as if part of her really had died.

"You are sick… Let me help you…" I had to. Mark would've done it, but he wasn't here. The onus fell upon me.

"Roger… No… I won't let you…" She tried to argue as I wrapped the blanket around her. I even managed to lay beside her on the couch, and wrap my arms around her. If she felt cold, it was the very least I could do.

"Mimi… Stop fighting it… You're just gonna make your fever worse."

"S'not with Collins, or Maureen and Joanne… Didn't tell them anything… Just visited…"

"Go to sleep Mimi…"

"I'm sorry…"

"I already told you, it's alright… You don't have to apologize, you've done the best you can…" I ran my hand up and down her back. Hopefully she appreciated my attempt to fill in for Mark. I knew I'd never be able to replace him if he didn't come back, but I could try and fill in for now.

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"Maureen… I don't know what to do… She's been running a fever for three days… I can't break it… She can barely keep her AZT down, never mind getting her to eat anything… " I was desperate. I knew she didn't have long left now. And panic set in… Mark wasn't here… I didn't know what to do. I'd tried aspirin, I'd tried cold cloths, I'd tried everything I could think of. When she was warm, I put her in a cold bath, when she was cold, I bundled her up and curled up next to her.

Panic. I'd lost April, I'm losing Mimi, and I might have even lost Mark…"Well, What about Marky…? Can't he get it to break either…?" Trust Maureen to find a way to hit home.

"Mark hasn't been here… But it's a long story, and I called about Mimi, not Mark… Maureen… You've got to help me figure this out…"

"Roger… I'm not a doctor… It sounds like she should be in a hospital… Can you get her there?"

"Well, yeah… She barely weighs a thing anymore… But that's not the point. The point is that when I walk into an emergency room, they know damn well to turn me around. I don't have money to afford this stuff, Maureen…" It was true. Any time I'd gone to the hospital they'd just turn me right around. It's a well known fact. Roger Davis has no money.

"Well… Joanne and me will meet you there… I'm sure she can take care of it… And while that's getting dealt with, you can explain this whole Mark thing to me…"

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I don't know at what point on the subway ride I came to a realization, but by the time I got to the hospital with Mimi, she wasn't what I was most worried about. I'd had to lock the loft. If Mark happened to come back, He was screwed. The window was closed and locked that led to the fire escape, so climbing up that would get him nowhere, and he didn't have his keys. All of a sudden, I regretted calling Maureen.

But maybe that had more to do with the fact that while Mimi was being seen to, she was putting me quite literally through the third degree. I was pretty much running on autopilot, not paying that much attention to her until she asked in more than just a pissed off tone "Well how long has he been gone?"

I had to pause and think. It certainly felt as if Mark had been gone forever. Maybe that was just because it was usually so quiet. Spending the past three days trying to help Mimi took my mind off of Mark long enough so that I wasn't freaking out over it, but now… Now I really had no choice. "Ten days." I said simply when I came to the conclusion that that had in fact been how long it had been since I'd seen him.

"Ten days, Roger? How the fuck can you not be worried if he's been gone for ten days? Mark doesn't just fucking leave." Maureen was pissed. Really pissed. I was surprised her hands hadn't snaked their way around my throat. Can't she see that I am worried though?

"If I'd said I wasn't fucking worried there would be a difference. Did I ever say that I wasn't worried about him Maureen?" Of course I didn't. He's wearing fucking slippers in the snow. Who knows where he is, and he's got no money or coat or anything. He could be dead by now. The thought of it brings tears to my eyes. If Mark were to die because I wanted to start a fight with him ten days ago, I don't think I could live with myself.

Maureen must have caught sight of the tears that I refused to let fall, because next thing I knew, her arms were wrapped around my neck as she hugged me. It felt nice to get a hug, but I wished it was Mark hugging me, forgiving me rather than Joanne hugging me only to comfort me. "What if something happens to him, Maureen…? It's all my fault…"

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And that's that until Chapter three. Please do us a favour and review? If you're commenting on spelling though, please note, I'm Canadian, I use British spellings. What do you guys think of having the chapters a bit longer rather than shorter. Shorter means they come out more often, but longer gives me a chance to get more done at one time. It's up to you guys though.