Oh God! I should have been here! How could I have missed his phone call? I stand and replay the message over. I analyze each infliction in his voice. "I'm sorry, I can't go through with this…" GO THROUGH WITH WHAT? What's happening? I listen to the message a third time, then a fourth, then a fifth. I start tearing the room apart searching for the phone book. Finally, I find it and the number.
"Hello, my name is Mark Cohen." I wonder if she can tell I'm sobbing? "My friend, Roger Davis is a patient there and he left a very cryptic message on my answering machine, I really need to talk to him.
"I'm sorry sir, I can not help you."
"What do you mean you can't help me?"
"I cannot deny or confirm anyone being a patient here, and by searching for your friend to give him the phone is doing just that."
"But he called me, and he said things to make me believe he may hurt himself, please, you have to let me talk to him!"
"I'm sorry sir, I can not help you.'
"You said that already. Please, help him. Roger Davis is his name, just tell him that Mark called and"
Dialtone.
I stand with the phone against my ear for a long time. Finally realizing that I'm tying up the phone, I put it back on its receiver and run out the door. I race back to the park; aware that every second I take, I could be missing another phone call. I find Maureen and Collins and quickly explain what happened and that I really have to get back in case he calls again. Maureen gets really upset with me, even Collins is aggravated. "Mark, you said so yourself, he needs to do this on his own."
"I was wrong. He needs me and I promised him I would be there for him, and I wasn't."
"You promised me that we would go out tonight." Maureen chides in. "That we would celebrate us. I need to be with you tonight Mark." I tell her I'm sorry and I'll make it up and run back home. I sprint up the stairs, no messages.
I spend the rest of the night only inches away from the phone. I actually fell asleep on the couch with it in my lap. Collins comes home late and leaves early. I find a note from him the next morning. It says to call him. It will have to wait until after Roger calls.
Two days have gone by, and still no word from Roger. I haven't left the loft except twice for food. Both times I was a wreck worried that I would miss his call. The phone hasn't stopped ringing, and since I'm not screening, I've actual been pretty social from my apartment. Maureen has called each day twice, to let me know she is still mad at me, but to check in to see if he has called yet. My mother called yesterday, and was overjoyed to actually have a conversation with me. She has no idea who I even am anymore, it's kind of sad.
I have spent the last two days of almost solitude contemplating my future and where I want to go. Do I want to live like this forever? My films are shit that is for sure. I know I have the talent, but I haven't figured out how I want to do things yet. I sit and stare at my script and actually do some work on it. Then I realize that I have all this pent up emotion so I open to a blank page and begin writing. I don't take my pen off the page, I continue until I have 5 notebook pages filled. I write about everything from Roger to Maureen, even my mother. I realize that I keep everything inside of me, try to pretend to all the people who care about me, that I'm fine and usually I am. But, I never release my feelings. Maureen always just wants to have fun and not be serious, and Roger, well Roger and I haven't had a real conversation in months. I did talk to Collins the other day, but really only talked about half of what I was thinking.
I sit at that table for hours and the tears won't stop. I am actually wailing. I finally try calling Maureen, but she isn't home. I make my way into the bathroom and go into the tub. There is no water in it, and I am fully dressed, but for some reason, this makes me feel better.
The phone finally rings. I run to answer it, afraid I may miss the call.
"Mark, it's me." It's Maureen.
"Hey," I try to control my voice so it doesn't appear that I have been crying.
"Mark, there is a letter here for you. No return address. It looks like Roger's handwriting."
"What?"
"Yeah, do you want me to open it?" I can tell by her voice she is dying to.
"No, I'll be right there."
I rush out the door without even locking it behind me. I run until finally I get to Maureen's place. I am exhausted. I make it up the stairs.
"Hi," She hands me the letter and walks away. Apparently she is a little pissed that I finally left the loft, not for her, but for Roger.
"Sweetie, I'm sorry…" She ignores me and goes back to eating her mac & cheese.
I open the letter and take a deep breath. I instantly recognize Roger's scratchy handwriting.
Mark,
Sorry about the message I left you yesterday. I was ready to give up, but I knew I couldn't. I'm glad you didn't go after me the other day, I had to make this decision on my own. I think it is the best one I ever made. I want to get better and begin living again, because I really only have a limited time. I've been out of touch for so long, I'm amazed that I still have someone like you in my life. I would have given up on you a long time ago.
Anyway, thanks for being there for me and I'll be home soon,
Roger
I read the letter twice. "What's it say?" I hand it over to her so that she can read it for herself.
I sit down on the couch next to her and just whisper, "I'm sorry."
She takes my head and puts it in her lap and begins playing with my hair. "I know pookie… I know…."
I begin to cry all over again, but this time I have Maureen to hold onto.