Disclaimer: These characters do not belong to me. As much as I would like to have Mark and Roger's cuteness all to myself -- I can't. :-(
Untitled (Sequel to Anything But Lonely)
Chapter Two: Complications of Falling (I know that title sucks, but it's all I can think of right now!)
The phone rang, jolting me from my sleep. I glanced over at the TV. The screen was blank, which meant the movie had ended a while ago. Mark was still laying on top of me. I nudged him gently to wake him.
He lifted his head drowsily.
The phone.
That woke him quickly enough. Oh! I'll get it! He rolled off the couch and snatched the receiver. Hello? Joanne, hi! You'll never guess -- yeah, I'm coming to -- what?. . . Oh, that's great! Congratulations!. . . Uh-huh. . . Okay, we'll -- I'll be there in an hour. Yeah. Bye. He replaced the phone in its cradle and joined me at the couch.
What was that about?
Joanne got a promotion at work. She just found out for sure, apparently. Big pay increase, too. So she wants to take Maureen and me out for dinner to celebrate.
Just you three?
Well, I guess. . .
Where do I fit in here? So this was how Mark must have felt every time Mimi and I went out and left him alone.
She doesn't know you're back yet.
That's why you tell her.
I know. But she was so excited. . . I wanted her to have her moment.
So, what, do you want me to just hide until I fit better into your time plan? I snapped, raising my voice. That old, familiar spark of jealousy was beginning to flare inside me.
Mark looked distressed. He obviously couldn't understand why I was so upset. No, I mean, I was gonna bring you along tonight to surprise them.
For Christ's sake, Roger, calm down, I thought. You're the one who wanted to avoid Joanne and Maureen this morning. Stop being such a fucking hypocrite.
I said awkwardly. Then, yeah. We'll tell them tonight. Should I apologize? It felt like the right thing to do. . . but whenever I did, it came out weird and forced, and usually didn't help the situation much. I kept my mouth shut.
We're leaving in forty-five minutes, he informed me, then stood and started toward his bedroom.
Hey, Mark, I called. I didn't mean to -- I mean, I'm. . . My voice trailed off, as if I was incapable of uttering an apology. Mark shook his head and shrugged.
It's alright, he said disappointedly before disappearing into his room.
I should have apologized. I don't know why I didn't. It's just words, Roger, just two simple words. Why did I have to make things so difficult?
I sighed and heaved myself off of the couch. Part of me wished I could be the old Roger again, the one that either ignored or escaped from his problems. That was so much easier than having to analyze, figure out what went wrong, and find a way to fix the problem. Those were things I didn't know how to do, things I always let Mark handle. I couldn't do that anymore.
Okay, baby steps, Roger, I ordered myself. Stop acting like a spoiled rock star and go say you're sorry.
I turned and marched into Mark's room with determination. I should tell you -- I began.
Mark was sitting on the bed, his knees pulled up to his chest.
I, uh. . . I'm sorry. For overeacting out there.
I wasn't trying to hide you, Roge. I wouldn't do that.
I nodded. I know. Chalk it up to my shitty-move-for-the-day. Unprovoked jealousy.
He cracked a tiny smile. You think we could work on getting it down to one shitty move per month or something?
Hey, anything's possible. I moved to sit on the mattress next to my filmmaker and touched his arm.
Aren't you always? he replied, kissing me softly.
- - - - -
As we approached Joanne's apartment I began to feel mildly nervous. Let me rephrase that -- my heart was nearly leaping out of my throat, I was so anxious. What would they say? Did they even want to see me? I mean, for a month I treated them all like shit, just sitting around, withdrawn and wallowing in my own selfish misery. Then without rhyme or reason I get up and take off for two months. I wasn't so sure I would forgive someone who pulled that shit on me. So how could I expect them to?
Mark, this was a bad idea, I can't --
Come on Roger, stop being a wuss. You've got to face your fears some time.
If there's one thing I don't like being called, it's a wuss. So I squared my shoulders and shut up my complaining.
Mark rang the doorbell, and I held my breath. Joanne called as she opened the door, Mark's he-- She stopped mid-word, staring at me in shock. Roger? Oh, my God. . . Maureen! I, uh -- come in, please, both of you.
She stepped out of the way and I followed Mark inside, still worried. I couldn't quite read Joanne's expression. Was she angry? Excited?
Maureen came out of her bedroom. She tugged at a pair of too-tight jeans, not noticing me. Pookie, I can't get these to button. . . She looked up from her stomach and saw me by the door. What the fuck are you doing here? Her face reddened at what had popped out. Then she glanced back down, blushing more with the realization that she was exposing the top of her red lace underwear. Oh, shit. She finally managed to button the jeans, then turned her full attention to me. So what made you decide to come crawling back, huh? I guess you figured you hadn't hurt Mark enough. Had to squeeze in a little more misery before spring?
Maureen, please. . . Mark was obviously very embarassed by Maureen's insults. Although I don't think he should have been surprised.
No, Mark, this needs to be said, she told him before resuming her argument. He was fine without you. He was moving on, getting himself a real life -- one that didn't involve a self-centered asshole for a best friend.
Shut the fuck up, Maureen! I shouted. I hadn't wanted to lose my temper, but how could I be calm with her acting like that? What's your fucking problem? You know, you haven't exactly been a saint to Mark in the past, either, but he forgave you.
Roger. . . This time it was Joanne trying to play peacemaker.
But it was too late; I was past the point of no return. Maureen and I never got along to begin with, and this was not helping. I may not be perfect, and I may not always do the right thing, but don't I deserve a chance? Just one fucking chance? God knows we've given you more than that.
See? You've been out of it for so fucking long that you don't know this, but I've changed, Roger. I know I did some dumb things when Mark and I were together, but I'm different now. We were both screaming furiously at each other.
So what makes you so certain that I can't change? How the hell do you know that I'm not different now too, if all you can do is bitch at me from the moment I enter the room?
I just don't want to see you use Mark any more. He's better off without your sorry ass around.
Yeah? You know what, Maureen? You're not Mark's keeper. You can't lead him around on a goddamn leash anymore. He's capable of making a decision without you telling him what to think and do. He's forgiven me, whether you like that or not, you're just gonna have to live with it.
I heard a door slam shut, and when I turned I saw that Mark had left the apartment. Joanne was standing at a safe distance, a scared, helpless expression on her face.
I looked down at my hands. They were shaking with rage. The last time I'd gotten so worked up was Christmas day, when Mark and I had our huge fight and he stormed out and forgot his key. Even then I don't think I reacted this heatedly.
I had to go find him. Please, Lord, I prayed silently, don't let him be mad at me.
When I opened the door, I saw him downstairs, leaning against the building. I ran down the staircase. I said softly. He didn't respond, so I placed a hand on his shoulder. Hey, I'm really sorry --
Sorry? You're fucking sorry? Mark shrugged my hand off roughly and glared at me. What the hell was that in there, Roger? Why did you have to let Maureen get to you like that? Why did you have to embarass yourself, and me?
I sighed, my pulse still racing wildly. I -- I don't know, I don't know, I don't -- I found myself compulsively repeating the phrase.
Suddenly Mark turned to me and grabbed my shoulders. Get a grip, will you? For Christ's sake, you're acting like you're going through heroin withdrawal again or something. Shit, you didn't start shooting up in Santa Fe, did you?
What? No, no, it's not that. . . Mark, I swear to you, I said vehemently, my thoughts growing a little clearer.
His relief was apparent. Oh thank God, he whispered. Why did you lose your temper like that?
Did you hear the things she was saying?
Yeah, but --
I'm not gonna let someone talk about me like that! Especially not her.
Roger, cut her some slack. You know she says things without thinking sometimes. She's not the most tactful person in the world. . . I snorted. But, you can't really blame her for being upset. I mean, you know that I forgive you and that I love you. But I was pissed at first, too. Just apologize, explain things, and give them a chance. I came around, and so will they. I'm not betting that they'll wanna make out with you like I did, but hey, you can't have everything.
I laughed despite myself. Just being with Mark, hearing his voice, calmed me down and got me thinking rationally again. Yeah, you know what? You're right.
Of course I am. He grinned charmingly. Now, let's go back in there, work things out, and go celebrate like we came here to do!
Yes, sir, I joked. We trudged back up the steps, where Joanne was waiting. Her expression now was one of sympathy.
I tried to calm Maureen down a little, she told us.
Can I talk to both of you? I asked.
She said sure and led me inside. Maureen was curled up in a chair pouting.
I took a deap breath before speaking to them. Here's the deal. . . I did a lot of wrong stuff the last few months. I shut myself off from everyone, I ran away without an explanation, I treated you both like dirt. And I'm really sorry. I can't take back the past, but I can learn from my mistakes and move forward from here. I'd like to be able to start over with you guys. Will you forgive me? Not bad. Maybe I was learning how to be a normal functioning person.
Joanne smiled reassuringly. We forgive you, Roger. Maureen tried to protest, but Joanne shot a look that quickly silenced the drama queen.
Thanks, that means a lot to me.
Is it just me or am I starving? Mark blushed at how little sense that sentence made. He was obviously more than a little desparate to get out of this tense situation.
Let's go eat, Joanne declared. We can take my minivan. I've got a great place picked out.
We all willingly followed her out to the street. Maureen sat in the front passenger seat; Mark and I climbed in the back. Getting out of the building seemed to do some good. Joanne and Maureen began bickering good-naturedly (that must be their favorite pasttime, I swear). Mark and I quietly made fun of the crazy women sitting in the front. Their. . . um, unique relationship was an endless source of jokes for two easily amused guys.
The restaurant was amazing; I'm surprised we were even let in. I thought at places like that you had to wear a coat and tie. We didn't look like bums but we certainly weren't in formal attire.
Once we were seated, the problems began. So what have you two been up to since last night? Joanne asked.
I glanced over at Mark nervously. I think he sensed my apprehension, because he didn't say a word. Oh, not much, you know, I said, forcing myself to sound casual. Just catching up on lost time.
Is that all?
Yeah. . . What kind of answer was she looking for? Did she suspect something? Maybe gays have some kind of sixth sense about other gays.
Shit, I had just called myself gay, hadn't I?
Well, that's what I was, right? I mean, I was in love with Mark, and unless he was hiding some big secret from me, he was definitely a male.
Still, I had never thought of myself that way, even once I decided that I did love Mark. Gay guys. . . they dress up as women, or date guys who dress up as women. They go shopping all the time and wear clothes that actually match. They march in parades and go to gay bars. They act flamboyant, and lisp, and talk about how things are.
That was so stupid of me. Why was I thinking so stereotypically? Angel didn't have a lisp, and the only time Collins ever shopped was for Christmas gifts.
I felt a hand violently shake my shoulder. Withdrawing from the haze of my thoughts, I saw Mark's face. Roger! We need to talk. Now.
Um, okay. What was he so upset about? We excused ourselves from the table and went to the bathroom. It was one of those that had a lounge inside, with couches and coffee tables. Joanne must have gotten one hell of a pay raise.
Roger, what's going on? Mark asked, his voice hushed.
What do you mean?
Are we a thing?
A thing? Well, I guess. . . I hadn't thought about it. I didn't know how stuff like this was supposed to go when it's two guys. I mean, are you asking are we exclusive?
I think that's what I'm asking. . . Mark didn't sound like he knew much about this process either.
Well, do you still want to date other people?
he answered without hesitation. Do you?
Then I guess that makes us a couple. He laughed a little. This is kinda strange, isn't it?
I smirked. Yeah. So. . . you're my boyfriend now, huh? The words felt foreign on my lips.
Yeah. And you're mine.
I had expected to be freaked out by actually saying it aloud and making it real: I have a boyfriend. But knowing what Mark and I had was genuine, recognizing it and giving it a name -- that felt great.
So, are we going to start telling people now? You know, about us?
Do we have to? I frowned.
Mark raised his eyebrows. What, you'd rather keep this a secret?
I don't think I'm ready to come out of a closet that I didn't even know I was in until a few weeks ago.
he said gently, stepping closer to me. Good thing the restroom was empty. I know it's weird. There's a lot of stuff happening right now that neither of us are used to. But you know what? We're going through it together, and we will survive.
I smiled and slipped my arms around him. He had a way of always knowing exactly what I needed to hear, when I needed to hear it.
I'm not gonna rush you to do anything you're not ready for. But hiding our relationship from our friends will only cause problems. We could really use their support, Roge.
Damnit, why do you always have to be right? I asked, kissing his cheek. Can't I ever be the more intelligent one?
Aww, you're already the sexier one, isn't that enough? Mark ran his fingers along my jawline.
Hey, get a room, no queers allowed in here! a gruff voice called. I turned abruptly to the doorway, where an angry, heavyset man was standing.
You got a problem, old man? I taunted. Wanna start something?
Before he could respond, Mark pulled me out of the bathroom. Cut it out, Roge, we're in a restaurant.
He called us queers! I lowered my voice so the other diners wouldn't hear.
You're really gonna have to learn to choose your battles, babe, he said with a slight laugh. I can guarantee we're gonna hear worse in the future.
That was something I didn't want to think about at the moment. Yeah, I knew we'd have to deal with gay slurs at some point, but I really preferred to stay in denial as long as possible. How could people be so vicious and narrow-minded? I guess you don't realize just how harmful hate and ignorance are until you become a victim of them.
Let's go sit down, I declared, returning to our table. Maureen and Joanne looked up expectantly, almost as if they knew what was impending. We have an announcement to make. Mark was better at talking than I, so I let him continue.
Roger and I have decided. . . well, we've realized that we're in love. It's something we've both known for a while but haven't admitted until now. We wanted you two to be the first to know, since you're our closest friends.
Neither woman looked very surprised. In fact, Maureen murmured, I knew it!
What are you talking about? I snarled.
Hello, it's been completely obvious since the day I met you guys that you two have a thing for each other. Why do you think I broke up with Mark?
Because you ran out of ways to use him for your own amusement?
Maureen huffed and rolled her eyes. Can we just stop this, please? I'm tring to be happy for you.
Well, try a little harder.
This is wonderful news, Joanne interjected. I'm sure you will make a terrific pair.
Mark thanked Joanne, relieved that Maureen and I had shut up.
Yeah, thanks, I echoed. I mean that.
Joanne raised her glass. Let's all make a toast, she suggested. To friendship and companionship!
To making a new beginning, Maureen added with a sideways glance in my direction.
To true love, Mark said, smiling at me.
To trusting ourselves and each other, I completed the toast, and we all took a sip of outrageously expensive red wine. Maybe tonight would turn out okay after all.