9- I Know the Truth
August hit New York full force that year. The heat and humidity were getting unbearable, and the ancient air-conditioner at the loft broke every other day, as they could never afford to fix it properly. She found herself spending most of her time at work. At least it was nice and cool at the Life. Benny was still the 'invisible roommate' as Collins used to call him, showing up mostly for leaving his share of the rent, or packing a new bag of clean clothes. He was practically living with this girl now, this Allison Gray, at her parents' estate at Westport. Collins was doing pretty well, at least under the circumstances. He was about to go back to MIT on September, and they were spending some needed quality time until then. Roger was getting more and more distant, which scared her just as much as it worried her, for he was hardly himself anymore. He still had his Roger-moments, in which he was the cute jerk he has always been, but those turned more rare as he became extremely short-tempered, and used to snap at them on the smallest things.
She spent most of her time with Mark. Sometimes she felt very guilty, because she felt like she wasn't giving Collins her fullest attention, but when she told that to Collins, he smiled and said that he was so happy that the two of them were still together, that he didn't care at all. They had one arrangement that worked fine. Since Mark hated crowded bars, or dancing, or cigarette smoke, whenever she felt like dancing or getting drunk, she took Collins along for bar-hopping. Mark didn't care to be left behind. On the contrary, he seemed kind of relieved that they didn't drag him along with them. When it came to keeping away drunken jerks that tried to hit on her in those bars, Collins turned out to be extremely useful, pretending to be her boyfriend.
She made some progress in promoting herself as a performer. The Life Café started to lead Open Mic nights, and she always took part in those, as it gave her a chance to share her own material with a live audience and get immediate feedback on her stuff. Mark was her production manager, since she was completely clueless when it got to sound equipment and cables and shit, while he knew a lot. A friend of Steven's who played an acoustic guitar played for her as she sang, and she made herself quite a name among the Village inhabitants. She was gaining so much recognition, that it got to a point where people showed up to those Open Mic nights specifically to listen to her. Mark used to joke about how soon she'd be so popular, that she'd have to extend her performance space to the deserted lot that was not too far from their building, since the Life was getting too packed to contain all her fans.
They crossed the park together, holding hands and talking nonsense mostly. Mark never quit his old habit of walking her to work, or from work if he didn't have to work. Today he was in sort of a hurry, because he had to be someplace at the other side of town, but he still went with her. She knew he would. She smiled. Things couldn't get any better between the two of them. It never ceased to amaze her, to think that they were together for so much time. For her, five months were a world record. And to be honest, she never believed they would last more than couple of months. But somehow, that night at Scarsdale got them even closer together.
"You okay?"
She looked up. Mark was watching her, a worried expression clouding his blue eyes. She smiled. "I'm fine." They walked in silence for a little while. "Hey, did you talk to Cindy? Wasn't she supposed to have that baby already?"
"I think she still has another week or two. Do you really think that my mom would have let such a thing to go by unnoticed?"
She laughed. Definitely not. "It's gonna be a boy, right?"
"Yeah. You know what that means," he half said, half asked, frowning.
She was almost afraid to ask. "What?"
"We'll probably have to show up for the Bris."
She went pale, looking at him wide-eyed. "You mean this thing where they cut the baby's-"
"Ah-huh."
Okay, now she was afraid. "Mark, you can't make me go there," she pleaded. She felt weakness in her knees just from thinking about it. "I'll pass out, or throw up, possibly both of them together."
He laughed. "You don't have to watch."
"Then why going at all?"
"Because I'm expected to be there, it's my nephew." He took her hand. "Besides, my mom will kill me if I won't bring you over to meet the rest of the family."
An involuntary shiver went through her. The weakness in her knees worsened. More Cohens. "Why do I have to meet everyone?" she pouted. He gave her a look. She sighed, knowing how lame it sounded. "Pookie, I love you. By that I mean you, not the rest of your family. Just you. So why do I have to-"
She stopped mid-sentence, and stared. Something behind Mark caught her attention. There he was again, that local drug dealer. He was mysterious-looking; tall, dark-haired, always in a black leather jacket, even in the summer. He always looked at her when she passed by, just looked, without saying anything. There was something in this see-through look that scared her a little, so she avoided walking in that path when she was alone. And yet, he wasn't the one who drew her attention at the moment, but the guy who has just paid him. He looked incredibly familiar. She inched closer to have a better look. She could have sworn he looked just like…
As if feeling he was being watched, he looked up. Their eyes met. His looked scared, probably for being caught in the act. She knew hers were shocked, furious, disappointed, betrayed. So this was the truth. This was what he was doing while being locked up in his room. How long was it going on? How could they be so blind?
"Maureen?" Mark asked, touching her arm slightly, snapping her back to reality.
Panic crept in, making her dizzy. There was no way she'd let him see that. She couldn't expose him to this. She wasn't sure he'd be able to handle that; he was still devastated because of Collins, and he found that out months ago. She had to act, and fast. So she did the first thing that came to mind.
She grabbed the front of his T shirt and pulled him towards her. He let out a surprised protest that sounded like "Mubph" as she pressed her lips forcefully against his in a passionate kiss. He tried to pull away at first, but she didn't let him, delving deeper into the kiss, slowly wrapping her arms around his neck. She opened one eye to glance over his shoulder again. Roger was no longer there. Relieved that her plan worked, she pulled away slowly, gently sucking on his lower lip.
"What was that for?" Mark asked breathlessly, his cheeks turning pink, his glasses askew.
"Just… cause I felt like it," she forced a smile, although she felt like screaming. Her mind was racing. Now what? She couldn't hide it forever. He'd find out sooner or later. She didn't want to think about what would happen when he would.
"Does that mean you'll come with me when the baby is born?"
"Yeah, sure, I will," she answered, her mind elsewhere. She didn't really think about what she had just gotten herself into. She just wanted to be alone. She had to figure out what she was going to do. "Look, baby, I gotta run. I'll see you later, okay?"
"What?" Mark asked, confused.
"Yeah, I just remembered I promised Roxanne I'll get there earlier so she can leave early." She stood on tiptoes and kissed his nose. He looked so damn naïve that it killed her. She didn't even want to imagine what it would have done to him if he turned to see what she did. She caressed his cheek. "I'll see you at home," she promised.
She heard him calling her name as she ran off, but didn't stop to look back.
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She was nervous, distracted and completely out of focus. She knew she must get a grip, or she'd be kicked out in a snap. The Life's new owner didn't like her very much as it was, but she was a good worker and the costumers loved her, so he didn't have a reason to fire her. Nonetheless, she knew that he was waiting for the fortunate moment to do so. And she didn't mean to give it to him.
She leaned against the kitchen door and closed her eyes, forcing herself to take deep breaths and calm down. She opened her eyes couple of seconds later to see Steven staring at her. "What?" she snapped at him.
"Whoa, chill, Johnson," he said, stepping back jokingly.
"What do you want, Steven?"
"Are you okay?"
Do I look okay? "I'm fine."
"Yeah, I can see that," he said sarcastically. "What, you're having troubles with your cute little boyfriend?"
She wished this was all it was. "Nothing like that. I don't wanna talk about it right now, okay?"
Steven looked slightly offended, but the truth was that right now, she really didn't care. "Fine. Someone's looking for you at the bar."
"Who?"
"One of your roommates, I think."
That was faster than she thought. She sighed. "Thanks, Steven."
A bit reluctant, but at the same time knowing she'd better get rid of it now, she stepped out. Just as she suspected, it was Roger who raised his head when she approached him. He still had that scared expression. He looked so pathetic. "What do you want?"
"I wanna talk to you," he said, in a gentle tone she hadn't herd from him in weeks.
"I don't feel like talking to you right now, Roger, I'm sorry." She was so pissed at him right now that she felt like she wasn't responsible for her actions if he'd managed to piss her off even more.
He touched her arm. "Maureen, please." He looked at her persistently. "I want to explain."
She narrowed her eyes at him. "You'd better explain," she said coldly.
"Not here." He took her hand. She hated herself for not having the heart to pull it away. "Let's go outside?"
She should have screamed at him to get lost, that he caused them enough troubles already, that the last thing she wanted to hear was lame answers and empty excuses. But she didn't. She turned and walked over to the back door, not even bothering to check if he followed her.
Outside, the heat seemed to cease a little as the sun was slowly setting. Roger took a seat on some wood boxes, but quickly he got up and started pacing nervously back and forth. She just stood there, her back against the café's brick wall, her hands crossed in front of her. "Well, speak, I don't have all day," she said. She didn't care if she sounded blunt and bitchy. It wasn't she who had to give explanations. It was her time being wasted.
This seemed to snap him out of it, for he stopped pacing and walked over to her. Then he gave her that same pleading look as he did before. "What you've seen in the park-"
"I know what I saw, Roger-" she cut him off sternly. He wouldn't fool her with this soft tone and puppy-like expression. She never fell for those.
"I know you're mad, but if you just-"
"Mad? Mad? I'm not just mad, Roger, I'm fuckin' furious!" she cut him off again, feeling like she could kill him if she would have given the means to. "How could you do this? Why? And what the fuck are you gonna tell Collins? And Mark? Have they ever crossed your mind whenever you were shooting up?" She stopped to catch her breath, and looked at him, feeling slightly calmer. "Just tell me why. I think I deserve that much."
"It helps me. It gives me something nothing else does. I don't even know how to explain this to you in a way that will make sense. It sounds so lame when I try."
"Lame. Just the word I was looking for," she said coldly. No one ever let her down the same way he just did. "Come on, Roger, I thought you were stronger than this," she said, her voice softening in spite of herself.
"I can stop if I want to."
"That's the most pathetic cliché in the book and you fuckin' know it!" She felt like slapping him, do anything else to shake him out of the fantasy world he obviously lived in. How could he be so dense? "What about April? Are you doing this together? Is this your new definition for a romantic evening, stay home and get high? I bet sex is really mind-blowing when you're high, huh?" Her voice was dripping with malice and sarcasm. She could care less. Then something occurred to her, and gave him an appalled look. She'd better be wrong about this, although she knew she wasn't. Her instincts never let her down. "Was it her? Was she the one dragging you into this?"
"I have a mind of my own."
"Do you? It doesn't look like it! You were fine before you started seeing her!"
"Hey, leave her out of this!"
There was something in the way he said it that told her that she was right. It was April who started it. She sighed. It really wasn't the time for looking for whom to blame. It was time to get practical. "Did you think of a way to break this to Collins and Mark?" Roger lowered his head. Just as she thought. He never intended to tell them, as he probably never intended to get caught. Well, she wouldn't let him to get away with this. "You'd better think of something, and you'd better do it soon, before I'll tell them myself. And trust me, if I'll tell them myself it's gonna be worse." And with that, she turned her back on him and was about to go back into the café.
"Maureen-"
"I don't have anything else to say to you, Roger," she said. She didn't even bother to look at him.
"I'm… I'm sorry you had to find out that way."
She shook her head. For a slight second, she felt sorry for him. "I'm sorry I had to find out at all."
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The following week was a torture. She was determined to let Roger be the one to tell Mark and Collins the truth. It killed her to keep this away from Mark, so she found herself avoiding him so she wouldn't let it slip by mistake. Looking into his eyes became so difficult. And Mark obviously wasn't stupid. The change in her behavior was so drastic, that he immediately sensed something was going on. Whenever he tried to ask her what was wrong, she always managed to distract him one way or another, but it was getting so much harder, that by the end of the weekend, she was a wreck. She was cranky and nervous; she snapped at everyone in her closest radius, and took up smoking again, after a considerable time in which she did her best avoiding it completely.
This was what she was doing at the moment; sitting out on the fire escape, smoking her cigarette, and staring at the buildings across the street. Just as she avoided Mark, Roger was trying to avoid her. She planned to talk to him again and force him into telling Mark and Collins, but she never managed to do that because they were never alone. When they bumped into one another in the hall he would always turn back to his room. Now that she knew April was responsible to this, she shot her nasty glares whenever she was around. She sighed, blowing the cigarette smoke away. She pulled her hair back with the back of her hand, and noticed that it was shaking. This couldn't go on like this.
She raised her head at the sound of opening door. Mark stepped into the loft carrying his bike. He leaned it against the wall and went over to the coffee table to put his bag there. As he looked out, he suddenly seemed to notice her. She smiled weakly and gave him a small wave, taking one last drag of her cigarette before getting rid of it.
He walked over to the window and stuck his head out. "Come in, I wanna talk to you," he said. His face remained expressionless. Not a smile, not hi, nothing.
She shrugged. It's not like she wasn't acting weird for the past week. She stood up and climbed back into the loft through the window. "About?"
"I think you know about what, Maureen." His tone was serious, his eyes unusually distant. "I wanna know what's going on."
Oh-uh. She knew it would come. She just hoped she'd have more time to prepare. Apparently, she hadn't. She looked at him innocently, indifferently. Better try plan A first to buy her some time. "What makes you think something is going on?"
"Damn it, Maureen!" he yelled. She stared at him, completely taken-aback. Mark never yelled. Ever. "I'm sick and tired of this! I let you get away with this because I was hoping you'd eventually tell me, but this had gone too far. Now I want some answers." Naïve, unconfident Mark vanished without a trace. This Mark was towering over her, furious and intimidating. She was truly scared. She knew he was pissed. She would have been too if someone would have done to her what she did to him during that week. But she was only trying to protect him. Was that so wrong?
Before she managed to say anything, he spoke again. "If you want to break up, just say so. But don't leave me hanging like this, Maureen, because it's fuckin' worse."
Break up? How the hell did he get to that? "I don't want to break up," she said quietly.
"Then what's wrong? Is it something I did?"
That sounded more like him. Always believed he was the one to blame. "Mark, no, you didn't…" she sighed. She couldn't lock it in anymore. It was killing her. She had to let it out. Maybe she should have been the one to tell him after all. Maybe she'd be able to soften things a bit. "Yes, there's something I'm not telling you. But it's only because I don't wanna hurt you."
"You're seeing someone else, aren't you?" he asked, looking completely heart-broken all of a sudden.
Great. Now he thought she was cheating on him? Could things get any worse? She approached him and caressed his cheek. "I'm not seeing anyone else."
"What is it then?" he asked, his tone now softer. He didn't want to pull away from her touch.
"I don't wanna do this here. Let's go someplace for dinner so we can talk about this, okay?"
He looked at her indifferently. "Fine. Whatever."
"Can you get my purse while I'm changing?" she asked, halfway down the hall. She changed quickly and slipped into her shoes. She left the bedroom, heart racing. Here goes.
Mark was standing near their coat-rack by the door, looking at if he saw a ghost. The color drained from his face, and his expression was somewhat shocked. He had her purse hung on one shoulder, but he wasn't trying to give it to her. He didn't do anything, just stood there.
"Thanks. Ready to go?" she asked lightly, telling herself it was nothing. She was beginning to see things, that's all. She reached out an arm to take her purse. Mark shoved her off. It was so sudden that she nearly fell back. She stared at him, more with shock than with anger. Oh, he didn't. "What the fuck?"
"Do you think I'm that stupid? Did you really think I wouldn't find out?" he said coldly. His look gave her chills.
"What are you talking about?" She left him alone for no more than five minutes!
"Looks familiar?" he asked nastily, holding out a small bag full with white powder. He nearly shoved it in her face.
Oh shit. She glanced at the coat-rack, and saw Roger's jacket hung on top of everything else there. It must have slipped out of its pocket when Mark reached for her purse. She looked back at him. He was watching her expectantly, obviously waiting for an explanation. "Mark, wait, you're jumping into wrong conclusions, I don't-"
"Don't give me this shit, Maureen, I told you I was sick of it!" He paused, as if to regain his composure. Then he gave her an accusing look. "How long, Maureen?"
She just stood there, staring at him speechless. Did he really believe it was hers? "How long what? I'm telling you, it's not mine!"
"Don't fuckin' lie to me, Maureen!" She winced. He was yelling again. "I think I deserve better than that!"
She couldn't believe this was happening. First he thought she was cheating on him, and now actually dared to accuse her in using drugs. Didn't she prove herself by now? If he really loved her, like he bothered to tell her over and over again, wasn't he supposed to know her by now? "Mark, I'm not lying. This is not mine," she said slowly. She was starting to feel really frustrated. "I mean come on. Did you actually see it falling off my purse?"
"I didn't have to," he said coldly, looking at her as if she was stupid. "Because everything else hung here is coats and jackets, and in case you forgot, no-one wears a jacket in the middle of August."
"Unless there are needle marks on his arm that he wants to hide."
He looked up. He obviously wasn't expecting such a backfire. "What exactly are you implying?"
"I'm not implying anything. I'm just trying to make you understand you're screaming at the wrong person."
"If it's not yours, whose is it?"
It felt as if she lost his trust completely. There was so much scorn in the way he was looking at her, he almost didn't look like himself. This was wrong. So wrong and so fuckin' unfair. Thanks a lot, Roger, she thought bitterly. "It's Roger's," she said quietly, looking straight into his eyes. "Are you happy now? Do you feel better now that the great truth was revealed?" her voice was shaking now as tears stung in the corners of her eyes, choking her, making speech extremely difficult. It didn't have to be like that. This was not how he was supposed to find out. But she didn't care anymore. She wanted to hurt him, just as much as he hurt her. She wanted him to feel what she was feeling.
Mark stared at her with complete astonishment, as if he needed a moment to take this in. Then his expression shifted. He looked disgusted. "I've never thought you'd go so low," he said coldly.
She stood there jaw-dropped, completely shocked by his malicious tone. He was way out of line. "Excuse me?"
"Roger would never do such a thing and you know it."
"Oh, and I would?"
"Apparently, you're not who I believed you were."
She shot him a nasty glare. She didn't mean to defend herself. He was so determined, so sure he was right, she knew she would be probably wasting her time. If this was what he wanted to believe in, let him have it. "You'll regret that when you'll know the truth."
"I know the truth, Maureen," he said sadly, throwing the stash at her. She didn't bother to catch it. She didn't want anything to do with it. It fell to the floor noiselessly. "Too bad I learned it a little too late." And with that he turned his back on her and left the loft.
His words were left hung in the heavy silence as she watched the closed door, silent tears streaming down her face.