*******************
January 1995: Letter 8
*******************
Dear Mom,
So Benny got married. But I guess you probably already knew that. Alison seems to be what he needs now. Someone steady and dependable. She's a bit upper class for me and Roger though. Roger keeps insisting on calling her "Muffy" because he says she reminds him of one of those preppy girls from the movies. Benny hates it. But Roger does have a point. You should've seen her parents' house. It's one of those large fancy estate places, completely decked-out for Christmas like those kinds you see in the commercials and the made-for-TV movies. The visit wasn't so much fun though to say as it was...educational.
Benny and I had a good long talk before the wedding. We mostly talked about what happened to April. I guess he just needed a "why" for closure. We'll see what this year brings.
Love,
Mark
***********
Voice Mail 9
***********
Hey, we're not in right now. Leave a message and we'll call you back as soon as possible. Thanks. *BEEP*
"Roger, it's Dave. This is the last time you leave me without a bartender. Don't bother coming in next week. You're fired!"
******
Golden
******
"Where's Roger? Work?" Mark continued to stare off at the floor. Since the minute I arrived there he had been acting cold and refused to make eye contact. I didn't get it. It couldn't have been Collins - he spent most of the time during the day working while Mark and Roger puttered around the apartment. Maybe it was Maureen. She was always stressing him out in some shape or form. What did they all do here all day anyway?
"I don't know. He lost his job a few weeks ago. He goes out. Sometimes we don't see him for days at a time. Maybe it's finally catching up to him. For months he'd been acting like everything was fine, but then recently he started this whole downward spiral..." Mark glanced over at an old, beat-up guitar case in the corner amongst the papers, books, and videos. It looked like it had been gathering dust for weeks. "Maybe it was the holidays that did it. Collins thinks that it brought back memories of..."
"Oh, well it doesn't matter." If I didn't interrupt him he was going to get into another one of his long talks about the woe that is Roger and I've heard it all before. I had more important and much happier tidings. "I've got the best news for you Mark."
"What? You won the lottery?" Mark was being sarcastic. Why didn't he sound very excited?
"Well yes and no. I bought the building."
"The building? Wait, this building?" Finally I had the boy's attention.
"Yes, just like I said I would..."
"Wait, so that would make you our landlord?" Mark started to laugh discreetly. I didn't think he'd be laughing, but he was smiling and that was enough for me.
"Yes, for now, until I get them to approve my proposal to build my cyber studio. Until then, you're set. No more rent for now. My gift to you." A wide grin spread across my face. I took a deep breath. This could make up for all the shit I've gone through. It finally seemed within my grasp. The one thing I could thank my father for was he having me get that business degree.
"I can't believe you did it. You really did it, didn't you?"
"We did it." It was in the bag. Mark could produce his films and even Roger could write his music. I didn't care who did what just as long as I had this. "So now you can finally finish those screenplays of yours and do some real work."
"I do real work."
I responded under my breath, "Okay Mark, whatever you say..." He didn't get it, did he? He'd always start something and never see it through. That's just how he was. Don't know if it was because he was insecure or a perfectionist or what, but it was about time he grew up and stopped acting like he was still in high school.
"No, I do." Shit, I got him started. I always say the wrong thing. I started walking towards the door. Mark looked at the floor and sighed, "Or maybe you're right." Oh, good he stopped... "I'm like a chicken with its head cut off. The end is inevitable but I keep running around, dragging it out...it's pointless..." Shit, he's going to start again. I could tell by his awful attempt to be poetically poignant. I looked down at the doorknob, my escape route.
"Bye Mark. I'll catch you later. Say `hi' to Collins for me." I walked out the door and closed it slowly behind me. Freedom...
Back in the loft, Mark picked up his camera. "It's pointless...But I keep writing, I keep working on my films. Why? Because it's my life. That's what he doesn't understand. They all think it's some foolish hobby that I'll grow out of. No. It's how I cope. It's easier to project your problems, your fears, your insecurities, your failures onto some fictional character who will never have to face the world like you do everyday. It's escaping into a movie for two and a half hours so you forget about the groceries that need to be bought, the loans that need to be paid-off, the people around you who smile and act supportive when deep down they think that you're wasting your life, the voice in your head that keeps insisting that what they say is true... Because without my films I am nothing. I'm tired of basing my self-worth on a grade on a report card or an amount of a paycheck. I'm tired of the fact that I'll always be nothing more then a statistic despite anything I do. That's
the reality. So what do we do? We dive into our work, we take `The Road Not Taken', we scream at the top of our lungs thinking that we're alone, but we're not. And that's the real irony of life. That we know all this, yet we keep on living..."
"What are you doing?" Roger's gruff voice interrupted Mark's tirade.
"Nothing." Mark turned off his camera. "Benny stopped by. He bought the building. Says we're golden."
"Yeah, whatever." Roger stormed off to his room and slammed the door behind him. Picking up his camera, Mark sighed as he pulled out the film and tossed it into a corner, replacing it with a new reel. He'd go film people in the park or something. Birds. Trees. Anything to forget...
****************
May 1995: Letter 9
****************
Dear Collins,
I hope your little excursion in Massachusetts is going well. At least you're settled now so I can mail you. Benny still hasn't brought up any of what was said by him and his father-in-law at the wedding. I know it was months ago but it's still on my mind. Maybe he doesn't know we heard him. Or maybe he just wants to pretend it never happened. I don't know. "It will be better in the long run" my ass. I just don't think that he's ever betrayed my trust to that extent. We have had fights before where he's said things, but I always felt they were more heat-of-the-moment comments, that he didn't really mean them. Like me. I guess I shouldn't take it at face value like you said...but it's just so hard to forget it. Everyone deserves another chance. But it's so hard...I mean, why'd he even invite us? The looks. The stares. The behind-our-back comments. For all I know, he planned it. Every time I see him or talk to him now it's in the back of my mind. At least I know now what he
really thinks of us. I had to do everything in my power to keep Maureen from making a scene. If Roger had come, I don't know how I would've controlled him.
Speaking of Roger, he's no longer going out like he used to. I don't know if it's a good thing or not. At least before when he used to stay out all night I didn't have to deal with him when he wasn't, well, himself. But now, he's spending all of his time here. It was ever since this one night about a week ago right after you left that he came back from one of those clubs he goes to, raving like a mad man that he had seen April. I don't know if it was the drugs or the alcohol talking, but something possessed him that night and he literally looked like he had seen a ghost. Since then he keeps saying that he can't go out there and that he's got to get clean. He's become worse and worse since he lost his band, and then his job, and then started wasting all his time at bars or clubs or on the street or God knows where. You know, you were here. I'm scared, because he's my friend and all, but I don't know if I can deal with him like this. But I'm going to try. Don't worry about us.
I'll get us through this.
Love,
Mark
January 1995: Letter 8
*******************
Dear Mom,
So Benny got married. But I guess you probably already knew that. Alison seems to be what he needs now. Someone steady and dependable. She's a bit upper class for me and Roger though. Roger keeps insisting on calling her "Muffy" because he says she reminds him of one of those preppy girls from the movies. Benny hates it. But Roger does have a point. You should've seen her parents' house. It's one of those large fancy estate places, completely decked-out for Christmas like those kinds you see in the commercials and the made-for-TV movies. The visit wasn't so much fun though to say as it was...educational.
Benny and I had a good long talk before the wedding. We mostly talked about what happened to April. I guess he just needed a "why" for closure. We'll see what this year brings.
Love,
Mark
***********
Voice Mail 9
***********
Hey, we're not in right now. Leave a message and we'll call you back as soon as possible. Thanks. *BEEP*
"Roger, it's Dave. This is the last time you leave me without a bartender. Don't bother coming in next week. You're fired!"
******
Golden
******
"Where's Roger? Work?" Mark continued to stare off at the floor. Since the minute I arrived there he had been acting cold and refused to make eye contact. I didn't get it. It couldn't have been Collins - he spent most of the time during the day working while Mark and Roger puttered around the apartment. Maybe it was Maureen. She was always stressing him out in some shape or form. What did they all do here all day anyway?
"I don't know. He lost his job a few weeks ago. He goes out. Sometimes we don't see him for days at a time. Maybe it's finally catching up to him. For months he'd been acting like everything was fine, but then recently he started this whole downward spiral..." Mark glanced over at an old, beat-up guitar case in the corner amongst the papers, books, and videos. It looked like it had been gathering dust for weeks. "Maybe it was the holidays that did it. Collins thinks that it brought back memories of..."
"Oh, well it doesn't matter." If I didn't interrupt him he was going to get into another one of his long talks about the woe that is Roger and I've heard it all before. I had more important and much happier tidings. "I've got the best news for you Mark."
"What? You won the lottery?" Mark was being sarcastic. Why didn't he sound very excited?
"Well yes and no. I bought the building."
"The building? Wait, this building?" Finally I had the boy's attention.
"Yes, just like I said I would..."
"Wait, so that would make you our landlord?" Mark started to laugh discreetly. I didn't think he'd be laughing, but he was smiling and that was enough for me.
"Yes, for now, until I get them to approve my proposal to build my cyber studio. Until then, you're set. No more rent for now. My gift to you." A wide grin spread across my face. I took a deep breath. This could make up for all the shit I've gone through. It finally seemed within my grasp. The one thing I could thank my father for was he having me get that business degree.
"I can't believe you did it. You really did it, didn't you?"
"We did it." It was in the bag. Mark could produce his films and even Roger could write his music. I didn't care who did what just as long as I had this. "So now you can finally finish those screenplays of yours and do some real work."
"I do real work."
I responded under my breath, "Okay Mark, whatever you say..." He didn't get it, did he? He'd always start something and never see it through. That's just how he was. Don't know if it was because he was insecure or a perfectionist or what, but it was about time he grew up and stopped acting like he was still in high school.
"No, I do." Shit, I got him started. I always say the wrong thing. I started walking towards the door. Mark looked at the floor and sighed, "Or maybe you're right." Oh, good he stopped... "I'm like a chicken with its head cut off. The end is inevitable but I keep running around, dragging it out...it's pointless..." Shit, he's going to start again. I could tell by his awful attempt to be poetically poignant. I looked down at the doorknob, my escape route.
"Bye Mark. I'll catch you later. Say `hi' to Collins for me." I walked out the door and closed it slowly behind me. Freedom...
Back in the loft, Mark picked up his camera. "It's pointless...But I keep writing, I keep working on my films. Why? Because it's my life. That's what he doesn't understand. They all think it's some foolish hobby that I'll grow out of. No. It's how I cope. It's easier to project your problems, your fears, your insecurities, your failures onto some fictional character who will never have to face the world like you do everyday. It's escaping into a movie for two and a half hours so you forget about the groceries that need to be bought, the loans that need to be paid-off, the people around you who smile and act supportive when deep down they think that you're wasting your life, the voice in your head that keeps insisting that what they say is true... Because without my films I am nothing. I'm tired of basing my self-worth on a grade on a report card or an amount of a paycheck. I'm tired of the fact that I'll always be nothing more then a statistic despite anything I do. That's
the reality. So what do we do? We dive into our work, we take `The Road Not Taken', we scream at the top of our lungs thinking that we're alone, but we're not. And that's the real irony of life. That we know all this, yet we keep on living..."
"What are you doing?" Roger's gruff voice interrupted Mark's tirade.
"Nothing." Mark turned off his camera. "Benny stopped by. He bought the building. Says we're golden."
"Yeah, whatever." Roger stormed off to his room and slammed the door behind him. Picking up his camera, Mark sighed as he pulled out the film and tossed it into a corner, replacing it with a new reel. He'd go film people in the park or something. Birds. Trees. Anything to forget...
****************
May 1995: Letter 9
****************
Dear Collins,
I hope your little excursion in Massachusetts is going well. At least you're settled now so I can mail you. Benny still hasn't brought up any of what was said by him and his father-in-law at the wedding. I know it was months ago but it's still on my mind. Maybe he doesn't know we heard him. Or maybe he just wants to pretend it never happened. I don't know. "It will be better in the long run" my ass. I just don't think that he's ever betrayed my trust to that extent. We have had fights before where he's said things, but I always felt they were more heat-of-the-moment comments, that he didn't really mean them. Like me. I guess I shouldn't take it at face value like you said...but it's just so hard to forget it. Everyone deserves another chance. But it's so hard...I mean, why'd he even invite us? The looks. The stares. The behind-our-back comments. For all I know, he planned it. Every time I see him or talk to him now it's in the back of my mind. At least I know now what he
really thinks of us. I had to do everything in my power to keep Maureen from making a scene. If Roger had come, I don't know how I would've controlled him.
Speaking of Roger, he's no longer going out like he used to. I don't know if it's a good thing or not. At least before when he used to stay out all night I didn't have to deal with him when he wasn't, well, himself. But now, he's spending all of his time here. It was ever since this one night about a week ago right after you left that he came back from one of those clubs he goes to, raving like a mad man that he had seen April. I don't know if it was the drugs or the alcohol talking, but something possessed him that night and he literally looked like he had seen a ghost. Since then he keeps saying that he can't go out there and that he's got to get clean. He's become worse and worse since he lost his band, and then his job, and then started wasting all his time at bars or clubs or on the street or God knows where. You know, you were here. I'm scared, because he's my friend and all, but I don't know if I can deal with him like this. But I'm going to try. Don't worry about us.
I'll get us through this.
Love,
Mark