Anything But Lonely
Chapter Two: Leaving On Your Mind
"Shh! He's coming," Maureen whispered. We all grew silent as she flipped the light switch. I heard footsteps on the stairs, then the door creaked open.
"Surprise!" the three of us (Joanne, Maureen, and myself) shouted when Collins entered.
"Wow, you guys. . ." he said, a shocked smile on his face. "You didn't have to do this, really!"
"Yeah, but we wanted to," Maureen countered. "You won't be back for months. We couldn't let our favorite boy leave without a big good-bye!"
"Hey, I thought I was our favorite boy!" I teased.
Collins laughed. "Thanks, this means a lot to me," he said, gathering us into a group hug.
As we embraced, I couldn't help my eyes from wandering over to where Roger sat, alone on the couch. He hadn't moved from that spot in weeks, not even to go to Mimi's funeral. I didn't attend either. To be honest, I hadn't left the loft since Mimi's death. I was afraid to abandon Roger. If I left and something happened to him, I would never forgive myself. So I stayed, tending to Roger like a hospice caretaker. I was probably the big joke among the rest of our friends. "Look at Mark," I could just imagine them whispering behind my back. "Poor guy devotes his entire life to a man who won't even acknowledge his presence. Talk about pathetic."
Okay, so maybe they didn't say stuff like that. But it was certainly how I felt. And yet, nothing could convince me to leave Roger's side. He needed me -- even if he didn't say so, I knew it was true. And I wanted to be needed; I wanted that feeling that for once, I was doing more than just filming life as it happened to everyone around me.
Speaking of my film, I had made very little progress. For the last 18 days my only new footage consisted of close-ups on Roger with my hushed narration in the background. Plus there were the rare shots of friends as they came and went, probably just checking to make sure the filmmaker and songwriter were both still alive before they carried on with their own concerns.
"Let's cut the cake!" Maureen declared, pulling my attention back to the party. "Joanne made it herself."
We collectively moved over to the kitchen table, drooling over the chocolate-frosted cake that had "Good luck Collins! We'll miss you," scripted on top in red and white icing. I pulled out plates and forks as Joanne cut the cake. After everyone had been served, I took a small slice over to my musician.
"It's homemade, Roge. You should try some," I told him. Over the last few weeks I'd tried every method known to man to get him to open up. I had yelled, lectured, cried, begged, and even bribed but all to no avail. Finally I decided the only way to deal with his behavior and not go insane was to treat him normally. All I could do was be patient and hope that, like last time, he would come around eventually.
When I ventured back over to the group in the kitchen, Collins put his arms around my shoulders. "No progress?" he asked, lowering his voice a little.
"None whatsoever. It's only been 18 days though. When April died he didn't speak for 35 days."
Collins raised his eyebrows. "You counted?"
"Of course," I replied with a nonchalant shrug. "Why wouldn't I?" What kind of friend did he take me for? "Wouldn't you have done the same for Angel?"
"Yes, but that's. . ." He stopped and considered something. "No, I suppose it's not any different at all," he said, his gaze distant, and I got the distinct feeling he was speaking to himself. I cleared my throat and his attention returned to me. "Roger's lucky to have you, Mark."
I blushed. "I just want the best for him," I replied. Now it was my turn to be contemplative. "Did you know we've been friends since 7th grade?"
"Wow, that long?"
"Yep. We met in the cafeteria. Some bullies were trying to steal my lunch and he told them to leave me alone. So they stole his instead." I paused and Collins chuckled softly. "I shared my peanut butter & jelly with him that day and he had an allergic reaction the peanuts. I stayed by his side the entire day in the nurse's office, faking a stomach ache so I wouldn't have to go back to class. After that we were inseparable. We were both kind of rejects, so we stuck together and protected each other." I sighed, my eyes fastening on Roger's unmoving figure. "It probably sounds silly, but I love Roger more than anything. I'd die for him if I had to."
"It doesn't sound silly at all. Most people wait half their lives for a friend like that," Collins said thoughtfully. "And some never do find one."
I nodded. "I'm so lucky to have him, Collins. Even when he's like this -- I can't imagine life without him."
"I never felt that way about anyone until I met Angel." He paused. "I didn't mean that you're gay, I just --"
"Don't worry about it," I assured him. "I understood."
Maureen interrupted our conversation by calling Collins to come open his presents. I grabbed my camera off the counter and began recording.
"You guys bought gifts too?" He sounded incredulous. "I'm not worthy!"
"Of course you are," Maureen insisted, latching on to his arm. "Here, this is from me and Joanne." She handed him a package covered in shiny blue paper with silver ribbon.
Collins unwrapped the box and opened it. Inside was a silver pen; the initials TBC were engraved on the side in gold. "It's beautiful -- this must have cost a fortune. You can't afford this," he said, worried.
"I got a bonus at the law firm last week," Joanne explained. "And you're worth it."
"Thanks, you two. I love you." He hugged the couple.
"We love you too, honey," Joanne said, furtively wiping a tear from her eye.
"We'll miss you," Maureen added.
Next I slid my present across the table. Collins pulled the tissue paper from a gift bag, revealing first a cowboy hat -- "So you'll fit in down there," I explained with a laugh -- then a canister of coffee.
"Life Cafe's home brew," Collins read the label.
"Whenever you get homesick, just make a cup and think of us," I instructed.
"Absolutely." Collins and I embraced. "I'm still gonna miss you all, though."
"Come home soon -- but don't get yourself expelled this time."
He laughed. "I'll see what I can do. But don't count on it."
"I know you too well to do that," I joked.
"Hey, speaking of the Life, Shannon Lance is performing there tonight," Maureen interejcted, randomly as usual. Sometimes I wondered if that girl ever paid attention to the conversations going on around her, or if she was just absorbed in her own Maureen-centric world.
"Who's Shannon Lance?" questioned a suspicious Joanne.
"A friend. We met at my Thanksgiving protest. He's a big fan of my work," Maureen boasted. Noticing her girlfriend's madly jealous expression, she continued. "Don't worry, Pookie. He's a guy, and a gay one at that. Besides, don't you trust me?"
"About as far as I can throw you," Joanne deadpanned.
Maureen grinned and wrapped her arms around the woman. "Please, Pookie? I promise I'll be good. This is Shannon's first gig, and he needs moral support. He comes to every one of my protests; the least I can do is show up for his performance." I almost did a double-take at Maureen's sudden demonstration of thoughtfulness. Maybe she really did have a heart after all.
"I wouldn't mind going and getting one last look at the place before I leave," Collins mentioned. "I'm craving one of their vegan burritos anyway."
"Okay, we'll go," Joanne relented. "Coming, Mark?"
I shook my head. "I think I'll stay and keep Roger company."
"You're getting almost as bad as him," she told me, putting on her coat. "Page me if you two need anything."
"I will."
Collins put away his newly-acquired gifts while my camera lens followed Maureen and Joanne to the door. "Are you sure you don't want to come?" he asked.
"I can't leave Roger," I reminded him.
"He's depressed Mark, he's not an invalid."
"I know that." I focused my shot on the wall behind the couch, leaving Roger in the blurry foreground.
"You really need to get out. You're getting pale and thin and withdrawn. . . You're turning into Roger."
I had never really thought of it that way, but Collins was more correct than I cared to admit. "I just don't want to leave him alone. I'd hate for him to think I don't care."
"If he thinks that, he's got more problems than I realized." Collins buttoned his leather jacket and walked to the door. "I know I won't change your mind, so I'll either see you later tonight or tomorrow morning. Don't stay up too late."
"Yes, father," I quipped.
"Don't 'Yes, father' me. I'm not the one staying home to babysit my best friend."
"Go have fun."
"I will. Good night, Mark."
"Night, Collins."
- - - - -
The next morning I awoke early. Collins and I spent the entire day packing. I don't think I had realized just how poor we were until I saw that all his worldly possessions fit into two large suitcases, a duffel bag, and a briefcase. And he owned about twice as much stuff as I did.
I made dinner in the evening: a feast of Cap'n Crunch cereal, coffee, potato chips, leftover cake, and PB&J sandwiches -- one PB-less for you-know-who. Joanne and Maureen brought the minivan over to drive Collins to LaGuardia.
After we ate, Collins and I exchanged tearful good-byes. He promised to call; I promised to take care of Roger. Then, with much less fanfare than I had envisioned, he was gone.
I sat on the opposite end of the couch from Roger. "Guess it's just you and me now, huh?" I said, not expecting an answer. "I should go clean my room," I lied. He needed to eat and I knew he wouldn't as long as I was around watching him.
I lay on my bed for a while, so silent that I could almost hear him chewing. Or maybe it was just my overactive imagination. I watched fifteen minutes tick by on the clock then figured it was safe to go back out. He had eaten the jelly sandwich (peach, which he liked better than the traditional grape or strawberry) and cake but not the Cap'n Crunch. Another one of his no-cereal moods. I made a mental note to fix pop-tarts the next morning.
The rest of the night passed as usual. I read a book until around 11 PM when my eyelids started to get heavy. That meant it was time to clean the room, or fix my camera, or do some other kind of busy-work to keep me awake until midnight when, like clockwork, Roger dozed off. Only then would I allow myself to relax and get some sleep.