Disclaimer: Not mine, never have been and never will be.
Untitled (Sequel to Anything But Lonely)
Chapter Four: Where Or When
I picked up the phone and, glancing down at a crumpled sheet of paper, dialed the number scribbled quickly across it. It rang twice before someone answered, "Hello?"
"Collins -- it's me."
"Roger, you're alive!" His voice blended surprise, relief, and excitement. "We were starting to have doubts before I left."
I laughed. "Yeah, I'm alive. How are things down in Texas?"
"Hot. Even in February, if you can believe it. They tell me the summer's even worse."
"Caused any riots yet?"
"Nope. But there's still time. How's Mark holding up? Has he actually gotten out of the house now that you're back to normal?"
"Actually," I began with a sigh, "Mark's kinda the reason I called. Can I tell you something?"
"Anything."
"You might want to sit down." I inhaled a slow, nervous breath. "Mark and I are in love."
"Okay."
"'Okay?' That's it? 'Okay?'"
"What were you expecting -- 'Oh my God, I can't believe it, Mark and Roger are a couple, this is the most shocking news I've ever heard!'"
I frowned. "Well, something like that. . ."
Collins chuckled. "No offense, Roger, but hell, I've always thought you two belong together. It's about time you got it over with."
His complete lack of surprise irritated me a little. "It's not like Mark and I have been fawning over each other for the last fifteen years!" I protested.
He stifled another snicker, and an embarassing thought occurred to me: maybe we had been, and we were the only ones who weren't aware of it.
"So how long have you been together?"
"About a week. Since Valentine's Day to be exact."
"That's great, Roger. I'm really happy for you two."
I smiled, my annoyance melting away. "Can I ask you a question?"
"It sounds like you just did, so I guess you can."
"Shut up." I paused awkwardly. "When did you realize you were gay?"
I could practically hear Collins nod contemplatively. "When I was seventeen. There was this boy at school that I hung around with a lot, and after a few months I realized I had romantic feelings for him."
"Did it scare you at first?"
"Out of my mind. I was raised in a very strict, God-fearing family where homosexuality was one of the most abhorrent sins. I spent weeks trying to talk myself out of it. I studied Playboy like it was the Bible, hoping that heterosexuality would just rub off on me or something." We both laughed. "But eventually I learned to accept that this is who I am, and it's impossible to hide or change that."
"When did you find out you had AIDS?" I felt like a young, curious child asking so many questions. I had known Collins for years but we had never discussed this.
"It was a year after I graduated from college. I didn't know anything about AIDS when I was diagnosed. I thought it meant I'd be dead by the end of the year. I totally shut myself off from everyone. I was afraid of hurting someone I loved by dying." His tone was kind but suggestive, as if to say "Sound familiar?"
"Finally I decided to educate myself about the disease. I learned that if you take care of yourself, it's possible to live many years after you contract AIDS. Hey, it's been six years for me, my T-cells are relatively stable, and I feel healthy. But, more importantly, I learned that it's okay to love someone and to let them love you. You can't control how long your life will be, but you can control the extent to which you live it. Don't be afraid to love Mark because you've got AIDS."
"I -- I didn't say --"
"I know, but you are afraid, aren't you?"
A deep sigh involuntarily escaped my body. "Yeah."
"Don't be afraid, Roger. You both have a right to spend your lives -- however long or short they may be -- happy and together. That's what Angel would have said, and Mimi. Forget regret."
Everything Collins said always made so much sense. "You're right. As usual."
"Roger, one more thing. . . The chances of contracting AIDS or HIV from sex are surprisingly low when you use protection. It's important that a couple discuss the topic together. When two people are really in love, the healthy partner in a relationship is often much more willing to take that risk than the infected partner would think."
Leave it to Collins to know exactly what I wanted to ask, but was too embarassed. "Thanks. You've been a really big help."
"Any time. Tell the gang I said hello, and I love you all."
"I will, and we love you too. Come home soon."
"I'll be there as quickly as I can."
"Hey, Collins?" I asked quietly, twisting the phone cord around my fingers.
"Yeah?"
"How come we've been friends for five years and you never told me all this before?"
"You never asked."
I smiled and carefully placed the phone back on the hook. Mark and I had some talking to do.
- - - - -
My filmmaker arrived home about an hour later, his arms loaded with brown paper bags. "What'd you get?" I asked, peering over his shoulder.
"Everything I could afford. God, it's been way too long since I bought real food. Ramen noodles and Chef Boyardee get sickening after a while."
I pulled an apple from one of the bags and sat down at the table with it. "Yum."
He laughed and quickly unpacked most of the groceries. "Thanks for not helping," he joked.
"Any time," I replied, grinning charmingly. Then I tried to take another bite, but before the apple could reach my lips, Mark intercepted it. "Hey, what the--" He cut me off with a firm kiss. "Okay, that works too. . ." I mumbled as I wrapped my arms around him. Together we walked over to the couch and collapsed on it, our bodies tangled together. "Remind me not to help more often," I said between kisses.
After a few minutes we broke apart and I leaned back on the couch. "Hey, Mark?" I began.
"Yeah?" he asked, intertwining his fingers with mine.
"Have you ever thought about, ya know. . ."
Mark shifted so that he was facing me completely. "Thought about what, Roge?"
"Doing. . . more than kissing?" I could feel my face heating up.
A tiny smile snuck on to his lips. "Is this how you go about soliciting sex? I always thought you'd be kinda rough about it, you know, less talk, more action --"
"Hey!" I swatted at his arm, embarassed.
He laughed. "I'm sorry. Really, I was just kidding."
"Sure you were. I, uh -- I was talking to Collins this morning. And he said I should talk to you about this."
"Well, what do you wanna talk about?"
"I don't know, I've never done this before!" I said, raising my voice in irritation.
"What, like I have?"
I glared at him, then at the same time we both broke into smiles. "No, I guess not. I don't know why I'm getting mad at you. I'm just kinda nervous right now."
"I can tell. No offense, Roge, but I think you're the last person I could imagine having sex with another man."
"Really? 'Cause I've always fantasized about it," I replied sarcastically, laughing. "Why do you imagine people having sex with other men anyway?"
This time Mark was the one blushing furiously. "Shut up! You know what I mean."
"Come here, you." I grinned and pulled him closer. He crawled on top of me, resting his chin on my chest and looking up with innocent, loving eyes. . . the same loyal, bright blue eyes that had captured my attention and fascination since I first saw them in sixth grade. Maybe it was just youthful optimism at the time, but I knew that very day that we would be friends forever.
"Well, do you want to have sex?" Mark asked.
"What, right now?"
He rolled his eyes. "No! I mean, ever."
"Do you?"
"I asked first."
I sighed and considered it. "Yeah. Yeah, I do, eventually. Your turn."
"Yes. But I think we both need time to get used to being together in a more-than-friends way, and to get comfortable with the idea of sex. Everything's kinda overwhelming right now."
"No kidding," I said, relieved that he felt the same way I did. "There's one more thing, though."
"Hmm?"
I frowned, suddenly finding this difficult to discuss. "Maybe. . . maybe it's a bad idea. I don't want you to -- I mean, you know, you know I have --" Why the hell did I always stutter like an idiot when I got nervous?
"Calm down," Mark interrupted. "Of course I know."
"I can't get you sick, I just -- I couldn't live with myself if I gave you AIDS."
He raised a finger to my lips and quieted me. "Roger, listen to me. I'm a big boy now. I'm capable of making informed decisions." He smiled. "Do you want us to spend the rest of our lives together?" I nodded silently. "Me too. AIDS is gonna kill you eventually, and if I get it, it'll kill me too. "
"Please, Mark, don't talk like that--"
"Roger! Just shut up and listen to me for once, okay?" He smiled, but the commanding quality of his voice convinced me to comply. "We can't lie to ourselves that you won't die of AIDS. It's going to happen, and we both know that full well. All we can do is enjoy the time we have together and try not to worry about what the future holds. It's all up to forces totally beyond our control anyway. If I get AIDS, I get AIDS. I can't control my destiny."
His words brought memories flooding back through the gates of my mind. I trust my soul, my only goal is just to be. Mimi. God, I missed her. . . more than I had let myself realize the past month or so. Would she want me to be with Mark now? I honestly didn't know the answer to that one. "I really loved her, you know."
Mark looked at me blankly. "Um, okay..." he said.
"Mimi. I loved Mimi."
"What are you trying to say, Roger?" Mark asked, pulling away from me just a little.
"Nothing, just that. That I loved her." Why had I thought of that so randomly? And why did I feel such a need to ensure that Mark knew it?
"I know you did. . . are you okay?"
"What? No, yeah -- I mean, I'm fine." I sighed. "I still miss her sometimes."
Mark placed his hand tentatvely over mine. "It's okay, Roge. It's okay to still miss her, even to still love her."
"How? How can it be okay? Are you saying you're still in love with Maureen?"
"What? No, I. . ." He laughed a little. "This has got to be one of the strangest conversations we've ever had."
I frowned. "Damnit, Mark, I'm trying to be serious. Doesn't it freak you out at all that I still love Mimi? Doesn't it make you even a little jealous?"
He sighed and slid off the couch to the floor. "What do you want me to say, Roger?" he asked, becoming frustrated. "Do you want me to say I'm jealous as hell, that I wish I was Mimi or something? I don't. I like being me. Especially when I'm with you. Shit, it's like you're trying to piss me off or something!"
"I'm not trying to do anything," I retorted. "I just don't want you to think I'm over her completely. I don't want anyone to think I've just forgotten about her."
"Nobody thinks that. They think you're picking up the pieces and moving on with your life."
"I don't know if I'm ready to move on entirely yet."
"Well if you weren't ready then why the fuck did you come back?" His voice echoed loudly through the loft -- or perhaps it was just through my mind -- and stunned me to silence.
Finally I spoke again, softly. "I thought it's what I wanted."
"Thought? You thought it's what you wanted?" A forced, harsh laugh escaped Mark's lips. "Silly me, here I was under the impression that we're in love, but it turns out to have just been one of your crazy, fleeting ideas."
"No, I. . . you're blowing this out of proportion, it's not like that," I tried to explain. This wasn't what I had come here for, this wasn't supposed to happen. . .
"Then how is it, Roger? Just tell me what the fuck it is you want, what you really want, and maybe we can figure something out."
A lump of fear, confusion, and dread settled in my throat, making each word a struggle. "I want. . . I want to be with you. I just need time."
He rolled his eyes. "Time. That's all you always need. For Christ's sake, it's been over three months since she died, Roger, when are you gonna move on? You know, if you want to sit around feeling sorry for yourself and being miserable, fine. But I'm not gonna be a part of it anymore. No amount of crying and depression will bring her back."
I jumped up angrily. "You don't know what it's like, Mark. You don't fucking know what it's like, to love someone more than anything in the world and then lose them!"
Mark's eyes filled with a sort of sad humor, and his voice became hushed and gentle. "That's where you're wrong. I do know, exactly what it's like. . . I lost you when you ran off to Santa Fe."
His gaze penetrated my stony exterior, melting my anger and grief and defensiveness into nothing. A tear slipped down my face, and for probably the first time in my life, I made no attempt to wipe it away or hide it. Damnit, why did he have this effect on me? Since when did Mark have the courage to stand up for himself, and I the courage to show my vulnerability to another human being?
Since we fell in love, I guess.
"Mark, I -- I'm sorry."
He nodded, inching closer to me. "There's always gonna be a special place in your heart for Mimi, I know that. I wouldn't ask you to get rid of it. All I ask is that you give me a little room in there, too."
"I don't think I could keep you out of there even if I tried." I stretched my arm out and brushed his shoulder with my fingertips.
"You say that, Roger, I know you say that. And once in a while you'll even act like it's true. Then the next day something like this will happen, and. . . I'm constantly guessing, I never know what to think."
"Look, I'm not trying to play mind games on you. I'm confused, too. So confused. I can't even keep up with myself sometimes. You just don't know what goes on in my head."
Mark slipped his hand into mine. "Then maybe sometime you can tell me."