[Author notes- Rent belongs to the late, great Jonathan Larson; the story that I've created after the fact is the property of my twisted mind.  I have some really messed up things planned for the next couple of chapters- some of you shall be pleased, but I am always open for suggestions of where the story shall lead.  The lyrics near the end of the chapter come from songs by Anthony Rapp.  I couldn't find the exact ones on the internet but I think they are fairly correct. Comments are very much appreciated.]

            In the most surprising thing that occurred since I came home, it took Maureen a full week before she came to visit.  But she did call, I just 'arranged' never to be home when it happened (thanks to the wonderful invention of the answering machine).  I knew she would finally catch up with me though. 

            "MARK? ROGER? Is anyone home?  Open the door!" her voice called from the doorway.  Couldn't she just knock on the door like a normal person?  She calls for a minute before all is quiet again.  Is it possible that she left, thinking we weren't here?  Unfortunately just as I go to finish sorting footage of my friends, Maureen struts into the room and stands there with a smug look on her face.  "I knew you were here."

            "How did you get in?" I ask her, quiet surprised to see her standing before me.  Especially, since she was wearing skintight black pants and a sparkly silver top.  Despite the skimpiness of the outfit I have had no reaction just yet there is hope. 

            "Still had a key.  It's my favorite person-my Marky- I've missed you so much!"

            Maureen is such a terrible liar-she always clenches her jaw-and gets this goofy grin on her face.  She comes closer and gives me a hug. "Hi Maureen.  I've missed you too.  Ok, that's enough of that." I mutter pushing her away, "What do you want?  And just to remind you I'm not 'your Mark' much less 'your Marky.'  I hate that name, quit using it already." 

            "Sure, whatever… What I can't visit you without having an ulterior motive?  I haven't seen you in a year and you think I want something from you.  I'm hurt.  That you think so badly of me."

            "Get off it-you're not hurt.  When don't you want something from me? Let me rephrase that, when Joanne isn't available, when don't you want something from me?"

            "Maybe I do want something from you…" her animated face gets a look on it that has 'come hither' written all over it, causing me to burst into laughter.  This pisses her off and she stomps her foot and looks agitated.

            "Come off it, Maureen.  This is an old game you're playing- I know all your tricks.  Still haven't gotten back with Joanne I take it?"

            By now I am done sorting my tapes and gingerly take a box out of the corner.  I lift the lid and bring out a new toy, a brand new digital video camera.  It's so small in comparison to the cameras that I've grown accustomed to.  I look back up at Maureen and notice how depressed she'd become since I mentioned Joanne.

            "She accused me of flirting with her cousin on her parents anniversary.  She didn't believe me when I told her that I didn't even smile at her cow of a cousin, much less flirt with her.  I miss her so much, but I'm not going to go back to her, she's going to have to come crawling back to me this time.  New camera, huh?  I thought you'd never go digital?"

            "I'm just trying something new.  I know you just got here, but I really have to be somewhere in a little bit.  Can we get together later this week?"

            "I just want to know if you can help me this weekend with my protest.  I don't have anyone to do my sound and electrical work- you know how terrible I am with that kind of stuff."

            "What are you protesting this time?" I ask, hopeful that it's not me.

            "How the police are targeting the prostitutes on Avenue A.," she retorts with a grin on her face.

            I can't help but laugh as I respond, "What you finally get ticketed for it or something?"

            This doesn't make her to happy and it looks like she wants to slap me. "Ha ha, very funny.  Doesn't look like you're working on anything at the moment. Can you please help me, just this once? Please Mark?" God why does she have to beg?

            "I don't know if I can-I have plans this weekend.  And for your information, the meeting I should have left for five minutes ago is another project that I might get."

            "What do you have to do that's more important than me?" she has a pained expression on her face like I just broke her heart.  Help me, someone?

            "Her names Kaitlyn and I don't know what we're doing yet exactly so I can't make plans to help you when our arrangements aren't definite."

            "Mark has a date?  Has hell frozen over?  Is she a mutant or something?  When can I meet her…."? I knew something like this would happen.  Why does Maureen always know how to push all of my buttons?

            " Oh shut up Maureen…."

           

            Everything is passing by me with such a blur.  Between hanging out with Roger, Kaitlyn, and work I haven't had much time to myself lately.  It's weird because for a long time I'd have hours to ponder my place in the world without having any responsibility, but now I have someone that cares for me and work but feel lost within myself.  Instead of being able to cope with this stress, it's growing more with everyday, especially since I find myself faced with deadlines yet again.  All the voices just slur together, "We really need that film Mark." "Can you pick up the pace just a little?"; "We need it tomorrow-no questions asked."; "Anyway we can see a rough concept?"; or "This isn't one of your artsy films Mark, you're working for a serious news corporation that has deadlines-is this a foreign concept to you?"  If I just breathe deeply and remain calm, I can pull through this. 'Come on Mark, you can do this.'  I'm strong enough- my self-confidence won't fade-I'm someone special- people care for me-I'll take a break soon-stay calm-you're good at this stuff-don't panic-I'm a success-I can do this-I'm afraid.

            Why is it that when I finally have everything that I thought I wanted, that it's not as great as it seemed before?  Why do people who seem so vibrant in person become a dull blur when captured on film-their faces cloudy and pale in comparison to the vivid backdrop?  Does this mean that my image of the world is distorted or does the world corrupt my reality?  Why is it that when I finally find someone to care about me, I long to be alone or have something more?  Why do I have to question my existence at every opportunity?

            The bubble of joy has officially burst I guess you could say.  I can't even explain why everything has changed, but the elation I felt when I returned has become a void.    Instead of accepting all of this success without comment, I find myself lamenting over every single moment.  I'm not even sure if anyone notices that things have changed.  My friends have all resumed living their lives and it seems like they forgot I even exist.  At least before they thought of me as a caretaker and came to me for assistance.  When I left I forced them to live their own lives, and they realized they didn't even need me in the first place.  My plan, to make them realize how important I was to all of them, has completely backfired.  I guess it was true all along; they really don't need me. I can hear their voices say, 'Hell, if Mark doesn't do this for us then why do we bother having him around us in the first place?  It's not like he is useful for anything else…' They are all so wrapped up in themselves that they probably can't see that my exterior happiness is just a façade.  It's a façade that I've perfected over the years and it has a strong shell- but inside I'm screaming for help, for someone to care.    

            Despite my success with work, my personal life is just screwed up.  For the past several months I've been seeing Kaitlyn, but can't exactly remember why.  When I first looked at her, she excited me beyond belief, but now that she's mine she bores me.  I always prided myself for treating my women like goddesses, but that enthusiasm is just not there with her.  I just don't feel that spark with her-there is no passion to make the relationship fun.  I need to let her go, but can I cope with being alone again?  I think I'll finally tell her how I feel next week, after the premiere of her new play.  I know she's going to have a hard time accepting this but I can't string her along like this any longer.  Added to my confusion with her, I have been having some really strange feelings lately that I have been trying to ignore.  Weirdly enough- I, Mark Cohen, find myself attracted to a guy that I saw Roger practicing with.  Me, who always vehemently defended my heterosexuality find myself attracted to another guy.  I don't know what exactly what this means, but maybe if I ignore it long enough the feeling will just disappear.  I can't let anyone know how I feel because I don't even understand it myself and don't think I could handle their questions along with mine.  

 

            I joined a new band.  I played some songs for these guys that placed an ad in the Village Voice.  I didn't expect much but was surprised when they told me I have the sound that they've been missing.  They are: Jude, a bass player who has a real ditz for a girlfriend, Matt, plays the guitar and will be doing back up vocals, a crazy keyboardist who goes by Shadow, and Dave, an amazing drummer.  We haven't decided on a name yet but we from our practices we sound decent.  I'm brought a bunch of songs for them to hear and we might just be able to make them work.  It's strange to be this productive in such amount of time.  Maybe I'll finally find that glory that I've been searching for my entire life. 

I'm happier than I've been in a long time.  Friends have become a regular part of my life again.  Surprise- Roger Davis, Mr. Somber himself living a carefree lifestyle.  Wouldn't have ever imagined that this would have happened.  The loft isn't as dreary as it once was, and I don't feel so alone when I'm there.  Maybe it's because it shows all the signs of Mark's return; random water bottles, used tapes of film, clothes, plates of half eaten food.  How can someone that's so meticulous about his work be such a slob in his everyday life?  It's been several months since his return, and despite the fact that he's not here much; his presence is still felt though.  He's been in a frenzy working-he's been getting so many job offers that I told him he needed to get an agent or something so they'll quit calling.  This weekend he's in Pennsylvania with Kaitlyn, for the opening of a play that she's in.

Kaitlyn, the woman just never quits.  You'd think that she'd have some flaw, but I've yet to see one despite the fact she's always around.  How can you like someone so perfect?  I swear she just stands there, smiles at Mark following him with puppy dog eyes.  For being an actress, she's the exact opposite of Maureen; she's always there, loving, always nice, never complains, it's like she is at church and Mark is the object she worships.  Someone like that isn't fun in a relationship, hell it's not a relationship-I don't know what it is though.  You have to have a spunk in relationship to keep the passion alive, but all I've seen thus far of them together is hero worship from Kaitlyn and Mark with an occasional smitten grin on his face.  Mark has terrible taste in women- I can't see what he sees in her or if he sees anything in her at all.  I can't help but notice that he pays her hardly any notice, which is a complete 180 for him.  When he is around it seems as if he is if he is contemplating a very important decision.  Ever since I've met him he's tried to hide how he feels, but his eyes always reveal the truth.  I know something is going on because the glow in his eyes has been gradually fading away and there is a sadness radiating from them now that I long to change.  I want to ask him what's going on but I know it's none of my business; I just want to know why he's been so quiet lately and how I could change things.  It's great just having him around, but I really wish he'd open up to me or at least tell me what has been bothering him.  I miss all the conversations that we once had.  I guess that's what he has Kaitlyn for though, to share his thoughts and life with-not me.  Why does this make me so sad?

            The distant shrill of a telephone wakes me.  I force myself to rise, startled as the sun blares into my eyes from the sun overhead.  That sunlight is really starting to piss me off.  It wouldn't be so terrible if it didn't shine directly into my face while I slept.  I fumble with my glasses and a pair of shorts before heading into the living room.  I make myself a cup of tea, trying to allow my body to wake up when I notice a note scribbled to the fridge.  "Mark- At practice until late tonight.  If you get a chance you should stop by.  Kaitlyn called again wanting to know if you changed your mind about not wanting to see her again.  Hell, She sounds exactly like how you used to sound when you called Maureen. Pathetic really…  Put her out of her misery already, if she calls one more time begging for you to call her I'm gonna cut the phone line.  See ya later- Roger"

            This is the first time in almost a year and a half that I've allowed myself time off.  Yea, my camera may still be an extra limb but at least I filming things I want to film, not what 'they' tell me to film.  Maureen was right all along; I did sell out to the media corporations in exchange for money.  I just wanted to prove that I could be successful at something for once, and it worked.  Maybe now that I have some money saved up, I can actually get back to filming for myself.  Nothing makes any sense, especially relationships.  I managed to finally tell Kaitlyn that I didn't care for her in that way, but she can't accept this despite everything I tell her.  I understand her thinking- I thought the same things when Maureen left me for Joanne, but I honestly don't care for her that way.  Doesn't she see this when she looks in my eyes?  Everyone always says they can read my every thought and emotion through my eyes, yet she can't see the truth.  I'm not sure what exactly I feel at the moment, but I'm sure it isn't for her.  I'm so confused by all this stuff, but I'm just going with it for now. 

            I spend several hours just loafing around the loft, writing in my journal and listening to the radio.  The station is doing a special on this musician, Anthony Rapp or something like that who's in a show uptown.  I listen to the catchy songs and hear him discuss his life, unable to focus on anything except the sound of his voice coming through the radio: 

"Nobody can share my troubles, this I know.  And let me tell you that I've learned a lesson; here I go.  Don't you know, it's just as sure as the rising sun?  Don't you know to tell the truth is lesson number one?"

Every single song mirrors my every thoughts, emotions, and insecurities.

"I'm up here on my own, again.  I'm always on my own.  They don't know anything at all; they see just what they want.  Can't they see that I'm not really here, I'm back here with you?"

His voice seems to be directed entirely for me.

"If you want to know the truth about my life it's a mess, it's a mess, it's a mess, it's a mess.  If you want to know the truth about my life I confess, I confess, I confess, I confess.  If you want to know the truth about my life it's in disarray.  I wish you met me earlier than today…It's a sham, it's a sham, it's a sham, it's a sham…where did my friends go?  Where did my friends go? Where did my friends go?"

For the entire hour my life gains a focus, but it disappears as soon as the segment ends.  I scribble down the information of where to meet the guy down on a piece of paper.  Throwing clothes on, I leave the apartment with a determination to find some answers about myself, not even sure what I'm going to say to him when I get to the theater.  Maybe he can just give me direction in this whole fiasco.  Maybe he can help me sort out what exactly I'm feeling… 

[A little later]

            I lean propped against a building waiting for the stage door to open as the cast leaves.  When the taxi dropped me off, it took me several minutes to figure out exactly who and what I was looking for, but after questioning quite a few people around the theater I finally have some clue of what I'm looking for.  They all probably think I'm crazy- a guy standing outside of a theater in the middle of the afternoon wearing a sweater, even though it's the middle of December and raining.  But at this moment, I could care less.  Finally the door opens and gradually people began to file out, each making gracious comments to the hoard of fans pleading for their attention.  It takes a little while but I finally detect the guy they call 'Anthony' talking animatedly to a group of girls.  Even from the wall, I can hear clips and phrases of the conversation-something about a guy named Jonathan.  I observe from a distance waiting for the opportunity to talk to him, trying to figure out what I am going to say to him without seeming like an obsessed fan.  What the hell am I doing here?  His blondish-red hair was tousled all over his head and wide grin on his face, calms my fears for some reason.  Maybe this won't be so terrible…

After an eternity of waiting, the girls finally leave his side and he looks hesitantly in all directions as if to see if anyone else requests his attention.  It is now that I finally make my move, slowly approaching him until I'm standing directly behind him- I go to tap him on the shoulder but he turns around before I get the opportunity.  Damn, I didn't expect that.  I find myself at a loss for words for several seconds before finally stuttering, " Uh hi- you're Anthony Rapp, right?"

"Yes I am!  Who are you and what can I do for you?" his eyes dance before mine and help to ease my insecurities. 

"I'm Mark.  Mark Cohen.  To be perfectly honest, I don't know exactly why I'm here.  I was sitting in my apartment today, pondering my pathetic existence, when this radio station ran a segment on your music.  I listened to the entire show and your songs spoke to me for some reason or another.  Before I knew it exactly what I was doing, I found myself here waiting to talk to you.  So here I am- but now I find myself at a loss for words.  Added to all of this, I feel like an incredible ass right at the moment; so if you want to turn around and walk away right now I would perfectly understand." Please just turn around and walk away, before I make an even bigger fool out of myself.  Why does this stuff always happen to me?  All he has to do is turn around and I can forget that this ever happened. 

Instead of appeasing my inner thoughts, he gets an even bigger smile on his face and erupts into laughter.  So he can laugh at my stupidity, huh?  "I'm so sorry-I just can't help laughing- you have no idea how much that sounds like something I used to say.  I'd really like to talk to you but I have to do a few things at home before the next show.  Could you maybe meet me somewhere…" he looks down at his watch and bites his lip before continuing, "say in an hour?"

"No problem.  Where?"

"You know that new little deli in the West Village?  It used to be an adult film store but it closed down last summer.  It has a huge flower shop next door with dead cacti out front; it's pretty hard to miss.  Know what one I'm talking about?"

"Ok.  I remember the place.  So I'll see you in an hour then…"