Disclaimer: RENT is Jonathan Larson's.
Mark fell asleep on the subway, curled on my lap with his thumb in his mouth and Toronto clutched in his free hand. At my stop I hefted him and his bag, lumbered and stumbled off the car, and stopped at the stairs to rearrange. The bag was killing my elbow; I hurled it up onto my shoulder and bent, knowing it would bother me like hell until I had it off.
For the next few blocks, Mark slept. He was a noisy sleeper, but in a pleasant way. He murmured and garbled and even giggled, nestled against my chest as I carried him. He made me smile, made me so happy I didn't even care that he was growing heavier with every step.
When I shifted him to my other hip and searched my pockets for the keys, Mark yawned. "Wha's happening?" he asked. He looked up at me. "Roger? Where are we?" He gazed around him at the dark buildings, nothing helped by a multitude of broken streetlights, and cuddled closer. "I don't like it!" he announced.
I smiled. "I bet Daddy would hate it."
Mark looked up tentatively and gazed around. "Maybe it's oooh-kay," he decreed slowly.
I bounced him and he smiled. "Enough to go inside?" I asked.
Mark shook his head. "There's witches and monsters…"
"And my roommates. This is where I live, buddy." I shifted the bag. It was killing my shoulder. "You wanna see my room?"
Mark nodded.
"All right!" I let us into the building. "Think you can go up the stairs on your own?"
"I'm five," Mark informed me indignantly, "not two. I bet I can even go up the stairs faster than you can!" he squealed, and squirmed to get free of my arms. I nearly dropped him before setting him down gently.
"Easy, Mark."
Too late. He had already taken off and was puffing his way up the stairs. I followed, staying two stairs behind at all times as Mark yelped that he was going to win. He jumped up and down when he reached the top landing.
"Hey, nice job, little guy!" I picked him up. "You're too quick for me. Come on." I hauled open the apartment door and carried Mark in. Julie and Collins were on the couch, playing a game of cards. "Hey, guys," I said.
"Hey, Roger," they chorused without looking up.
"Slapjack again?"
"Yup."
"Where's April and Stanley?"
"Out."
We managed this entire exchange without Julie or Collins looking up once. Mark wrapped an arm around my neck and closed his eyes again. "By the way, Collins, can Mark share our bedroom?"
"Who's Mark?" he asked, looking up. Then he said, "Oh… shit."
Julie asked, "What is it?" and looked up. "Oh my God," she said. "Roger. Oh my God."
Mark waved a chubby hand and them and said in a high-pitched whisper, "Hi."
"Hey, sweetheart." Julie walked over. "What's your name?" she asked, stroking his hair.
Mark gasped and pulled away from her, burrowing against me instead. "Roger," he whimpered, clutching handfuls of my shirt in his pudgy fingers.
I smiled at Julie. "This is Mark, my little brother. Mark, say hi."
"Hi," he said, pressing closer into my chest. "Roger…"
"Hey, shh," I said, bouncing him, but this time it didn't work. It was after ten o'clock at night. Mark was tired and in a new environment, with a strange woman trying to pet his hair. He was, overall, tired and scared and helpless. Mark screwed his eyes shut and began to wail.
"I wanna go hooome," he wailed. "I want Mommy! I wanna go home!" He thrashed in my arms and pummeled me with his tiny fists. "Let me go! I wanna go home, lemme go-o-o-o!"
"Okay, hey, stop that!"
"Roger, what the hell—"
"Not right now, Collins." I tightened my hold on Mark and, without another glance at my friends, carried the baby into the bedroom. He was still thrashing when I sat on my bed, and I did the only thing I could think of: I held him tightly while he stretch and squalled, trying and failing to free himself. "Don't do that, Mark," I said quietly. "Don't do that. Calm down baby, shh, don't cry, you're okay…"
I rocked him, not giving him an inch of wiggle room and singing the same little songs I sang to him when he was a baby. When Mark stopped screaming and kicking and punching, I help him back and stroked his hair. "Are you okay now?" I asked.
He sniffled and nodded. "I want Mommy," he said. "Why couldn't Mommy come live with us?"
"Mommy… wanted to stay with Daddy," I forced myself to say.
"How come she doesn't love us?" Mark asked.
"She does. Mommy's just a little confused," I explained. Mark looked at me, doleful, and wiped a tear off his cheek. "Ready for bed?" I asked. Mark nodded. "Okay. Let's find your pajamas." I took my new quilt out of the bag, then sorted through the handfuls of clothing until I found Mark's flannels.
When he saw what I was doing, Mark stood on the bed and held his arms up. I pulled his shirt over his head and slipped on his jammie jacket, trying not to look at the bruises and blatant frailty of his chest. "Anything special you do before bed?" I asked.
Mark shook his head. "Just brush my teeth and go to the bathroom."
Shit! I hadn't brought his toothbrush! "Hey, um, you can use my toothbrush today, okay?" I asked. Mark nodded. I ruffled his hair, and he giggled. "Good boy."
After wrangling him fully into his pajamas, I led Mark to the bathroom. He didn't want me to leave him; in fact, he wouldn't let me leave him. I squeezed a dot of paste onto my toothbrush and handed it to him. "R'gr," Mark mumbled through a mouthful of toothpaste. He pointed to the sink. I lifted him, and he spat.
Mark's chest was too bony, his body too thin. While he bobbed his head to spit I saw a purple bruise on the side of his neck and my gut twisted. "Okay." I set him on the floor. "I'm gonna wait outside while you use the toilet, okay?"
"Why?" Mark asked. "What if there's toilet snakes?"
I smiled. "There's not toilet snakes," I assured him.
"Are you sure?"
"Completely."
"Well… okay."
When I left the bathroom and closed the door gently, Collins was staring at me. "What?" I asked. I didn't need this right now. I needed things to be good and easy for a moment.
"Mark?" he asked. "Since when do you have a brother?"
"Since five years ago," I said.
Collins nodded. "Look, you can understand how weird it is that suddenly you bring a five-year-old boy into this apartment. It's not exactly an ideal environment," he said.
"I know." But that was the first time I realized how much I needed my roommates. I needed them to say Mark could stay. I needed someone to watch him while I was at work. "But—"
"Roger?" Mark stepped out of the bathroom. "I can't reach the sink to wash my hands," he said.
"Okay, buddy." I gave Collins a quick smile, then lifted Mark up to the sink. He washed his hands. I helped him dry his hands. "Ready for bed now?"
"Uh-huh."
"Come on, cranky-pus," I said, taking his hand.
Mark followed me to the bedroom, complaining, "I'm not a cranky-pus!"
I pulled back the covers and lifted Mark onto the bed, then pulled the blankets up to his chin. "You comfortable?" I asked. Mark nodded. "Good." I pointed to the other bed in the room. "That's where my friend Collins sleeps. Do you want me to sleep on the floor, or is it okay if I share your bed?"
"Where's your bed?" Mark asked.
I patted the mattress. "This is it, buddy."
"Sleep with me," Mark said. "I don't wanna be alone. It's scary here."
"Okay." I smoothed down his hair and kissed his forehead. "I'll be right back, okay?"
Mark began to panic. "Where are you going?" he asked.
"Brush my teeth and use the toilet, just like you did."
"Then lay down with me."
"Okay," I promised.
Before he let me leave, Mark reached up and touched my face. "Mark's brother," he said.
I smiled. "Yeah," I told him, "that's right."
Lying in bed that night, holding my sleeping brother against my chest, was the first time I didn't question what I had done. He slept peacefully, deeply, and in the dark it was easy to think that what I had done was right.
to be continued
