The next morning I wake up in a
stranger's apartment with Mimi in my arms. I watch her sleep; she looks so peaceful and young. I run my fingers
through her tangled hair and look around my surroundings. The remnants of an
impromptu party linger, people sleeping, empty cans of beer lying around, the
feeling of wastefulness in the room. It
is images like these that I allowed myself to forget in the romanticizing of my
old life. I get up off the floor, find
my leather jacket and place it over Mimi while she sleeps. I go over the window
and steal a cigarette from a pack lying on the table, another old habit I
picked up last night. Strange, almost
missed them as much as the heroin. I
look out onto the street with new eyes and a huge sense of guilt. All the reasons I tried to remind myself of
yesterday come flooding back filling me with remorse. The number one reason, Mark lingers in my head. But I turn around and see Mimi, and I know I
can't go back now. I got a taste of
paradise last night; Mark will just have to understand.
I scoff at myself, who am I kidding? Mark will never understand, he will be crushed. How can I explain this to him? I remember the fight we had last week, when in haste I told him how easy it would be for me to go out and buy a stash. Why did I say that? His reaction was to try and push me and I remember his words "You can't scare me like anymore, ok? I don't think I could go through it again." I can't ask him to, I won't. I made my decision; I want to be my old self, and most of all I want to be with Mimi. Still, that sense of guilt lingers, and I vow to myself that the least I could do is to get enough money for him to buy back his camera.
I wake up for the third day in a row to find no Roger. I'm really starting to worry, as his bottle of AZT sits on the counter untouched. I went to visit Collins yesterday and he told me he hasn't seen Roger since the Mimi incident, which I filled him in on. I had been avoiding Roger for the last week, though I couldn't figure out why. I just didn't know what to say to him, he seemed so pleased to have Mimi back for that miniscule amount of time, I knew it broke his heart for her to leave the way she did. Plus, I was mad, I still am about my camera. But what kind of person am I to complain to a guy whose true love just left him? So I avoided him, the first time in the long tenure of our friendship that I wasn't there for him. And now, I am starting to worry.
Roger has been known to take off, but never without notifying me, and not without at least packing a few things. The fact that his AZT is still here is what worries me most of all, it proves that he left in a hurry. There are so many reasons why he would leave like that, but only one that makes sense. Mimi. She needed him, or perhaps, he needed her. The nagging sensation that the latter is true lingers, and I decide to go search the park for Mimi, and hope that I don't find Roger with her.
I head to the door, walking past the table, and almost grabbing my camera until I am reminded. I never realized what a security blanket it was for me. I take a deep a breath and trace my fingers over the table, wishing it were here, but finally will myself to leave the loft and head to the park. I go right over to the area where Roger and I found Mimi the other day. It is a Saturday morning, and only a little after ten; the only people I see are families spending the day in the park. The junkies and homeless have sought refuge for the night and I do not see anyone that I could even ask. I sit down on the bench and close my eyes and put my head back. I know he is with her, it is the only explanation for his disappearance, and it is my fault.
I should have been there for him. I don't know how I will ever forgive myself if he went back to using. Just because I was pissed off about my measly stupid camera, I let him down. I wasn't there for him, though I had promised him I always would be. What kind of person am I? I scold myself for being so selfish and self-involved.
But then, my thoughts begin to shift at anger towards Roger. He knew what he was doing. He knew how hard it was for him to go through withdrawal the first time; he knew how it wastes his life. I watched him suffer through Mimi's addiction, her constant promises to quit, and then his frustration when she came back from work obviously high. I tried to distance myself from the situation, because as much as I cared about Mimi, I already went through it with Roger and April, and I couldn't do it again. I know I can't do it again, and I have told him that. Which means, if he made this decision, he knows that he can no longer be a part of my life.
How can I just let him go, though? Don't I owe it to him, to myself, to try and find him, and convince him to come back with me? I finally get off the bench, knowing that I there is no way for me to find out anything for sure, and head back to the loft. I almost go in the direction of NYU, but decide I really need to go home incase he comes back or calls. I head up the stairs to loft and hear a door shut and I recognize the boots descending down the stairs, before I see person in them. I stand on the landing and wait, he doesn't notice me until he turns and almost walks into me.
"Mark… hey…" He keeps his eyes down, clutching a small bag.
"Hey, leaving so soon?" I am not going to let him go without some sort of conversation.
"Yeah, I have to go…"
"…Find Mimi?" His eyes fire up as he looks at me, and then he scoffs.
"Yeah, you figured me out. Good for you." He smirks as he attempts to walk past me, but I step to the side and block him. "Get out of my way, Mark."
I take a deep breath, knowing that the next words out of mouth may be the most important that I ever spoke. "Roger, please, come up stairs, we can talk about this."
"Nothing to talk about, I know how you feel. I made my decision." He breaks past me, and walks down three steps and then stops. "Look, I sorry, Mark, I know this isn't what you want. I just needed…" He shakes his head and takes another step away, and then looks at me with kindness in his eyes, "Look, I got your camera back, it's on the table. Just finish your film, ok? You don't need to worry about me anymore."
"Roger, please, don't go, it doesn't have to be this black and white." I rush down the stairs and grab his shoulder. "I know you still need me,"
He shakes his shoulder from my grip, and looks at me with sadness and shakes his head. "No, you are the one who needs me. I got back everything I needed." He turns around again and walks down the stairs and out the door. I bolt up the stairs to the loft, slam the door and fall on the couch. I lie there staring at the ceiling, feeling incredibly helpless and heartbroken. I lie there for hours, finally sitting up and going over to the table. Sure enough, my camera sits there, as if it never left. I reach out to it take, but instead push it off the table. I don't even want it near me.
