True Devotion
You had sat down with your guitar in an attempt to shift your focus to something other than the things bothering you. It had the opposite effect, though, each strum and pluck if the strings made your thoughts play in your head over and over again, like they were the chorus of the song you were playing.
Benny. Mimi. Benny. Mimi. Benny and Mimi. Benny kissing Mimi.
Mimi liking it.
At that, your finger slipped, and you hit a wrong note. With an aggravated sigh, you set the guitar down next to you, gently, of course, because breaking it wouldn't make things better. You'd still be dirt broke, starving… and your guitar would be broken.
Not that your guitar was doing you any good anyway. All these months you'd been "working"—right. A twelve year old who had been playing for six months could write something better than anything you'd produced. You were starting to think that you'd never find your song, and it was time to find a new dream. A dream that maybe New York wasn't the place for. You had been thinking about it for awhile. Maybe if you just left, you could start over, be happier for what little of your life you had left.
Santa Fe had started out as a joke. Collins had mentioned one day when you were all gathered around the small table at the loft, eating cheap cake and drinking even cheaper wine to celebrate Mimi's birthday. Mark had shaken his head amusedly in response, Mimi had laughed and laid her head on your shoulder and Maureen had wondered aloud if there was anything to protest in New Mexico, earning an eye roll from Joanne. You, however, had thought it didn't sound like such a bad idea. It was warm all year in Santa Fe, so there was no worrying about having no heat on Christmas. It had to be cleaner than New York, because basically everywhere was cleaner than New York. And safer. You closed your eyes, imagining a small apartment you might actually be able to afford, without a jackass landlord who shut off your power and padlocked your door.
The thoughts you were trying so desperately to avoid took this as an invitation to come back, even more insistent. Benny. Mimi.
Mimi. Mimi. Mimi.
Your eyes popped open at the sound of moment from outside the loft's door. For a moment your heart quickened. Mimi? You quickly pushed the thought away. Mimi would knock. You walked over the door and pulled it open, finding Mark digging through his pockets and muttering.
"—can't believe I forgot my damn key. Why the hell did I lock the door anyway? It's not like anyone would break—"That's when he noticed you standing in the doorway. "What are you doing here?"
"I live here, Mark," you deadpanned. You could understand his confusion. It had been awhile since you'd been upstairs. "Forgot your key?"
"Obviously," he said before stepping inside. He glanced around the loft like he was trying to figure out if you had moved or stolen something. You resisted the urge to roll your eyes. It hadn't been that long. "Mimi working tonight?"
No. She'd come home from "work" an hour before.
You shrugged. "Maybe."
Mark cocked his head to the side. "Did something happen, Roger?"
"No," you snapped. "I thought I'd work up here tonight. Is that a problem? Because, like I said I—"
"Live here. I know." He stared at you a moment longer. "It's good to see you."
Mark wandered to his room and you picked up your guitar again, only looking up when Mark returned with his camera. "What the hell—"
"Zoom in on Roger Davis," Mark said, pointing the camera at you. "Who, instead of groping his girlfriend downstairs, is up here groping his guitar as if that's an alternative."
"You're one to talk!"
He ignored you. "My guess is that he's bitter because she insulted him. Perhaps she said something about his hair? He's incredibly touchy about his hair."
"Mark, shut up."
"Or not! Maybe she told him that those plaid pants of his," he lowered his voice to a stage whisper, "aren't as cool as he thinks they are."
"Mark! Damn it, stop."
Mark lowered his camera. "Roger, I'm not an idiot. I have barely seen you in weeks, and suddenly you're up here moping?"
"Moping?" you questioned. He continued as if you hadn't spoken.
"Something happened between you and Mimi, and I don't plan on just sitting here and while you screw things up with her."
Well. That was offensive. "What makes you think I did something?"
Mark raised his eyebrows, making it clear that that answer should be obvious, but he didn't answer your question. "These past few months, you've been happier than I've seen you since…" He hesitated for a moment, and you winced, already knowing how the sentence would end. "April. You're happier than I've seen you since April died." He paused, watching you to gauge your reaction.
Even you were surprised by how little it hurt. A small jolt of sadness came at the mention of your ex-girlfriend, but it was nowhere near the all-consuming pain and guilt that had been your only companion for months. You nodded slowly.
Mark smiled. "You just proved my point."
"Huh?"
"Eight months ago, hell, six months ago, the mere implication of anything having to do with April—including the month. The month Roger, that's how pathetic you were—"Your eyes widened a little bit at the word pathetic, but you were too stunned to interrupt. "—would make you either start crying or threaten to kick my ass. I've said her name three times and you're fine! Mimi's good for you. What's worth giving that up?" You didn't respond, but Mark figured it out on his own, like he had read your mind. "Roger… no. Seriously?" You sometimes wish he didn't know you so well. "Benny?"
"Don't say it like that!" you said, clutching the neck of your guitar tightly against your shoulder.
"Like what?"
"Like I'm crazy for caring so much!"
Mark rolled his eyes. "Even though you are?" You glared at him. "Look, Mimi's not cheating on you with Benny."
"How do you know?"
"Well, for one, Mimi has better taste than that." He grinned, and you knew you were supposed to find it funny, but you couldn't bring yourself to laugh, or even smile, about this. Mark sighed. "C'mon, you enjoy making a mockery of Benny's faults. It was your favorite activity when he lived here."
You clenched your jaw. "She dated him before."
"Roger, that was months ago."
"Then she lied about it…"
"I imagine she knew you'd overreact."
You crossed your arms. "Shouldn't you be on my side?"
"You know I'm on your side, Roger. And part of being on your side is telling you when you are acting like an idiot. I know she's not cheating on you."
You scoffed, and before you could stop yourself asked, "Like you knew Maureen had 'changed her ways' and was one hundred percent faithful?" He recoiled as if you slapped him, and you winced, because you might as well have. "Mark…"
"Mimi's not Maureen. And she loves you." He stood up. "And you're a jackass." He stormed into the kitchen, only to return less than a minute later.
"Look, Mark, I—"
"We need food," he said suddenly.
You blinked, and then stared at him blankly. "What?"
"Food. You know, that edible stuff that you ingest to keep from dying a slow painful death?" You were shocked, both by the random topic change and the fact that Mark was talking to you about slow painful deaths. Usually he wouldn't even say 'death' in your presence. "We need some."
"Well—"
"And… coffee. We need coffee."
"Not need…"
"And we need to pay the damn rent!"
You laughed. "Since when?"
Mark glared at you. "I set up a meeting with Alexi Darling. From Buzzline. They need directors. And we need money."
"Mark, that's totally selling out…"
"You think I don't know that? That phone call literally sucked out my soul. But sometimes you have to look at the bigger picture. It's life. You have to deal with shit, and try to be as happy as you can. Sometimes, it doesn't matter if your job sucks or your girlfriend once dated someone you don't like." He stared at you pointedly.
"I—"
"You know those life support meetings Angel loves so much? No day but today? You know what, you're wasting today, when you know you've got someone waiting for you. It's not too late this time! I am your best friend, Roger, and I'm not watching you go through this again. So go downstairs and talk to Mimi."
"I can't!"
Knock knock knock.
You looked up at the ceiling, or God, or whatever the hell was up there, sometimes you didn't know, and thought now? Mark smirked.
"Well, then that's convenient." You looked at the door then back to Mark, who frowned. "Aren't you going to get that?"
You shook your head. "No."
"Roger! Jesus Christ, do you ever listen?"
"Maybe it's not Mimi!" you said, wishing you could believe your own words.
"Oh?" Mark asked. "Who is it, then?"
You searched your brain for the first name you could think of that wasn't Mimi. "Collins!"
Mark laughed. "If it was Collins, we'd be hearing someone telling us to get off our lazy white asses and throw him the key, not knocking."
"Angel?" you offered, less confidently.
"Is here without Collins because…?"
"Maureen!"
"Roger," he said slowly. "Do you hear how the person outside stopped knocking and is patiently waiting for someone to answer?"
Definitely not Maureen then. That had been a stupid response. "Joanne?" was your final attempt, and even you knew that was a long shot.
"I don't even think Joanne likes us."
You glanced back at the door again. "Mark, I really don't think I can…"
Mark threw up his arms. "You're hopeless, I swear. I'm answering the door."
"Don't!"
He stopped, already halfway to the door, and repeated himself from earlier. "I'm not watching you do this to yourself again, Roger." A moment later the door opened.
When Mimi's small voice greeted Mark and asked where you were, you knew that Mark had been right. So you set your guitar down and waited.
Mark stepped aside to let Mimi in, and then gave you another pointed look. You didn't know when he had gotten so good at those. "You two, kiss, make up, and if the making up requires more than kissing, take it downstairs."
You found yourself grinning in spite of yourself, and mouthed 'thanks Mark' as your friend walked away. He shrugged and pointed to Mimi.
She had obviously been crying, which made you feel worse than you had before. You were struck by the thought that she could be screwing half of New York and you would still care about her. You weren't sure if that should scare you or if it was just another sign that Mark was the smarter of the two of you. "I'm an idiot," you offered as a greeting.
She smiled. "I noticed."
"A jealous, paranoid idiot," you continued.
"I noticed those, too." Mimi took a few small steps forward. "Roger?"
"Yeah?"
"Would it freak you out if I told you that you were the best thing that ever happened to me? I know it's kind of fast, but I seriously think I lo—"
You stopped her. "Come here."
"But I—"
"Mimi, please?"
When she got into arms reach, you pulled her into a hug, pressing a kiss to the side of her neck. "I'm sorry."
Her arms wrapped tightly around your neck, and she whispered, "I'm all yours, Roger. Don't you get that?"
You thought of the words she had been about to say, and held her more tightly to you. "I actually think I'm starting to."
