Chapter Ten

Mark watched intently as Roger played his song for James and Chris.

"Your eyes as we said our goodbyes…can't get them out of my mind, and I find I can't hide…from your eyes, the ones that took me by surprise…"

It was good; very good. Mark only hoped the assholes would take Roger seriously. He had poured his heart into this song. For Roger, music was more than a pastime. Music meant to Roger what film meant to Mark.

Not that Chris and James weren't okay guys. Roger's former band had simply left a bad taste in Mark's mouth once Roger confessed to them he was HIV positive. They had completely abandoned him, despite the loss of his girlfriend, April. Mark was surprised that Roger would contact the ex-band mates at all after the way they'd treated him. But he supposed Roger's memory from the old days was a bit shoddy, considering the state he used to go around in. Maybe, Mark thought, trying to remain optimistic, just maybe they've grown up a little.

"That's awesome, man," Chris offered. "Sounds like a hit."

"You really think so?" Roger beamed. Mark, however, questioned whether the reactions were genuine.

"Yeah, Roger, where've you been all this time?" James questioned.

"What do you mean? I've been here."

"You got another band?" Chris asked as he lit another cigarette. Mark rolled his eyes. Did they have to smoke in the loft?

"No. That's actually why I asked you guys over here. I had…well, I'd sort of hoped that we could give the band another try. You know, play some clubs or something for starters. I've gotta do something to get some cash in my pocket." Roger's eyes were filled with hope.

"Tell you what," James said, stretching. "Chris and I are heading to a club to check out a drummer tonight. You should come along."

"Really?" Roger asked.

"Yeah," Chris picked up his guitar and plucked a few chords. "It'll be great. We can talk about old times."

"Yeah, great." Roger sounded too eager. The trio hung around the loft for a bit, revisiting songs they had once played as a band; joking and laughing.

Mark scoffed as he watched them. Roger wasn't one of them anymore. He must realize he doesn't fit in anymore, Mark thought silently. Roger, however, appeared oblivious to the difference between himself and his former friends. He just seemed grateful to have a fresh audience; someone to hear his music. Mark stood perfectly still for a moment, trying frantically to absorb what was happening. What the hell was Roger doing? His former band mates had been in the loft for no more than an hour and were spoiling everything Roger had worked so hard to gain. Mark sighed as he remembered Angel's promise: "He'll catch up later; he's just got other things on his mind…" Angel had only been dead for 2 ½ months and already things were returning to the way they had previously been. What was this spell that Angel had had on all of them? How could they retain the magic now that the magician was gone?

Mark returned to his room silently. He had no desire to witness Roger's catastrophic downfall. He felt scorned and miserable, tired and lonely. He wanted to escape…take his mind off of Angel, Roger, HIV/AIDS, Chris, James, and the calamity he anticipated. He glumly fumbled for his projector and his shoebox of film reels. He could avoid this whole dilemma if he just went to work. Stay busy, stay busy, his mind hummed. Soon enough, Mark was entranced by the flicker of the projections on the nearby wall. Though he knew he was doing what Roger always accused him of, hiding in his work, Mark was too preoccupied to care.

Mimi scurried up the fire escape, wiped the frost from the loft window with her sleeve, and peered in. She smiled when she saw Roger, whose whole frame shook with laughter, his head thrown back, and his face red. She loved him dearly. She was almost unsure how she had come to love him. Nonetheless, she loved him more than she had ever loved anybody. He was the reason she fought for her life.

She wanted more time - - more time with Roger. She wordlessly hoped, like a schoolgirl with a crush, that she would someday become Mrs. Roger Davis. Then she scolded herself for being so ridiculous. She was twenty years old, broke, and HIV positive. The only way she'd get a wedding was to ask Benny for the money. She would never do that.

Mimi rapped on the window and opened it as Roger waved her in. He was beautiful; decidedly better looking than the other guys with his wide green eyes and his tussled hair. He greeted her with a warm hug and a brief peck on the lips. Mimi smiled as he proudly introduced her to Chris and James.

"Hi," Mimi greeted them. "It's nice to finally meet you." She brushed a wild strand of hair behind her ear, ignoring Roger's gawking friends. She was not vain, though she knew she was beautiful. She had grown accustomed to men staring at her.

"Is my surprise ready yet?" Roger asked as he pulled her onto his lap and nuzzled her ear gently.

"Maybe." She was glad he took pride; almost boasted in their relationship. She remembered a time when he wouldn't even hold her hand in public.

"So Mimi," James said, loading his guitar back into its case. "Roger tells us his new song was written for you."

Mimi smiled again, then drifted into deep thoughts; memories of last Christmas Eve. She was certain she had seen Angel, dressed to the nines, encouraging her that heaven could wait. "Turn around, girlfriend, and listen to that boy's song!" She'd had no idea that a new Roger awaited her when she returned home. She was relieved she had taken Angel's advice.

"Guys I'm going down to Mimi's for a bit. Can I meet you at the club?" Roger asked as Chris and James stood to leave.

"What club?" Mimi was curious. Could it be they had a gig already?

"We're uh, going to look at a drummer," Roger told her, raising his eyebrows at the possibility of a reunion tour.

"We're on our way there now. Come on, Rog, it won't take long. Mimi, you don't mind if we steal him, do you?" Chris spoke out of one side of his mouth. A lit cigarette dangled from the other side.

"Not at all," Mimi lied. She had her heart set on a romantic night alone with him. She scolded herself again; Roger had the chance to become a star. Who was she to stand in his way? She didn't want to be selfish, and she certainly didn't want Roger to feel that he had to be with her every minute. He had finally begun to relax after that day at Life Support. Mimi smiled at him supportively and nodded. "Go ahead," she said. "The surprise can wait."

"I won't be long, I promise." Roger kissed her forehead and gently cupped her chin in his hand for a moment. "This is for us. You know that, right?"

"Of course." Mimi squeezed his free hand reassuringly, then cast her eyes down to the floor.

"Hey…" Roger stood gazing at her until Mimi's eyes met his. "I love you."

Mimi blushed a bit then replied, "I love you, too." She watched as Roger and the guys left. She started back to her apartment, but decided to hang upstairs for a while once she remembered the dinner and candles she'd set up downstairs. If Roger could eat cold enchiladas, Mimi supposed she could, too.

Mark squinted as he entered the common room. The flourescent, albeit dim, light was a harsh change from his dark bedroom. He shuffled over to the sofa where Mimi sat, picking lint from the worn throw pillows.

"Hey." Mark greeted her cautiously.

"Hi." She was obviously pouting.

"You okay?"

"Fine."

"You sure, 'cause you look kind of...?"

"Mark, I said I'm fine."

"Okay...Sorry." Mark stiffened, then went to the kitchen, hoping to find some of Collins' Stoli around somewhere.

"God, Mark, you could put up a little bit of a fight," Mimi mumbled.

"Huh?"

"You're nice...too nice," Mimi informed him. "It's almost pathetic."

"Yeah, well my mother told me never to fight with girls."

"And look where it got you with Maureen." Mimi's cat-like grin made Mark smile, too. He eased his way back in her direction.

"So Roger's gone..." he observed.

"He went to check out a drummer or something. He's with..."

"James and Chris, I know."

"You don't like them?"

"Oh, they're all right, I guess." Mark wanted to share the whole sad story with her, but held back. "Are you angry with him? Roger?"

"Not angry. A little worried, maybe. And a bit lonely, too." Mimi's expression was soft and sad. "I hope he'll hurry back."

"Worried about what?"

"It's nothing," Mimi told him.

"Okay, if you don't want to talk about it..." Mark gave her a small wave and headed toward his bedroom.

"Do you think it will change him? The band?" Her voice resembled the voice of a frightened little girl. Mark returned to her side again. He sat next to her on the sofa and put his arm around her frail shoulders. Mimi leaned her head on his shoulder and cuddled the sofa pillow closer to her chest.

"What do you mean?" Mark asked in a caring, gentle voice.

"I'm afraid he'll become the depressed, introverted, 'don't commit' rocker he used to be," Mimi admitted. "I'm afraid we'll have to start all over. Honestly, I don't think I have the strength to start all over."

Mark raised his eyebrows, surprised that Mimi would confide in him. He realized that Mimi's fears perfectly mirrored his own. The whole group had once been unified and strong. Angel's death and Mimi's subsequent sickness had weakened them all. If things returned to the way they used to be, how could any of them endure it? Mark rubbed his forehead with his fingertips, desperately searching for the right words to say. How could he reassure Mimi while still voicing his own concerns?

"Mimi, I think that..." He was interrupted by a banging on the heavy metal door. Mark rose and called toward the sound, "Yeah, who is it?"

"It's Collins man. Open up, hurry!"

Mark hustled toward the door to find an obviously shaken Collins waiting. "Collins, are you..."

"Mark, you need to come with me." Collins grabbed his arm hastily.

"Why? What do you mean? What's going on?" Mark tried to stand his ground until he received some answers, but Collins was too strong for him. Collins jerked him closer to the stairs.

"Come on, man. Help me."

Mark's mind raced. What the hell was happening? "Collins, what is it? What's wrong?"

"You gotta help me lift him."

"Wait! Lift who?" Mark's face grew pale and his hands shook. Collins stopped suddenly and looked at him very matter-of-factly.

"Roger's been hurt."