"Damnit!" he cried, rattling the door handle violently. He slowly stopped until his head came to rest against the cold metal door. He sighed difficultly.
God, what a day, Mark thought as he turned his back against the door and slid into a sitting position on the sidewalk laced with dingy snow.
He wanted to cry or scream or punch something, but all he did was sit there with his hands clasped over his head, staring at the snow. There were still patches where it was white, where it hadn't yet been stepped on, but most of it had been trampled brown and was slowly melting on the fringes of the sidewalk. A small line of ants was making its way toward the remnants of a hot dog bun by a lamppost, and an occasional pair of feet threatened their busy, happy existence.
What a disaster this day had been. He shouldn't have gone to Maureen's. He had known it too, but for some reason he ignored his own intuition. Maybe he just needed to see what would happen. Well, now he knew and was right back where he had started. Only this time he was alone.
Mark slowly got to his feet and brushed himself off, making sure to step carefully over the ants as he began to walk. The lot was just around the corner, but all of its inhabitants were gone. There was barbed wire along the fence and a sign that warned trespassers that they would be prosecuted. Mark shook his head sadly. These people had nowhere else to go. Benny wasn't a bad person, his motives were genuinely good, but last night had gotten completely out of control. The evidence of the riot was still present everywhere. Broken glass, remnants of smoldering fires, and trash littered the lot and the sidewalk of Avenue B, the only remaining testaments to the chaos of the previous night.
Except for my film.
Mark picked up a piece of paper that had been blown against the fence. It was one of Maureen's fliers. He let it flutter back down to the street and glanced over the lot once more. Mark wondered where everyone had gone. He wondered where he would go.
Suddenly realizing how hungry he was, Mark dug into his pockets and was surprised to find a few crumpled bills in them.
"Score," he mumbled, studying the money in his open palm. He could get a cup of coffee, and maybe a candy bar or something.
Without realizing that he had made the decision, Mark began to walk. A few blocks later he found himself standing in front of the Life Café, staring in at the small restaurant through a window. He knew now what he was doing, why he had come here, but he didn't even have to open the door to know that being in that café would not change anything. Everything had come together for him there last night, but it had nothing to do with the location. Friendship and belonging didn't come from the scenery. It was just a goddamn room, with tables and chairs and fading paint just like any other restaurant. He was inexplicably angry at the thought, and in that moment all he wanted to do was throw one of those goddamn chairs through the fucking window.
Instead, he began to walk as quickly as he could. He stalked away from the Life Cafe, his anger warming him in the face of the bitter wind. The farther he got, however, the more his heated resentment cooled to a more familiar emotion that left him freezing on the sidewalk. He grasped for the anger, trying to hold onto it by thinking of Maureen and his father and everyone else who had ever hurt him, but it was gone. Loneliness crushed down on him and forced him into a park bench, hunched beneath its suffocating weight.
He was alone. Totally alone.
He felt forgotten. He knew that he hadn't been, not completely, but he felt it nonetheless. Roger and Mimi were together, wherever they were, and Collins was with Angel. Maureen didn't need anyone, least of all him; she was so goddamn self-sufficient. No one knew or cared where he was. They all had each other.
More painful was the admission that this loneliness wasn't just physical. It didn't have anything to do with the geography, the fact that he was locked out of his building and didn't know where his friends were. He was just as alone when Roger was sitting five feet away struggling with chords or when Maureen was kissing him and asking him to stay with her. All he wanted in the world was for someone to love him, to understand him, but no one even knew who he was.
He didn't know who he was.
No, that was wrong. He knew who he was, but he hadn't yet figured out how to how to be that person. He felt like he was two different people now: the easygoing, unaffected Mark who was basically happy and fun-loving and the quiet, thinking Mark who took everything to heart and clung to what he trusted. Both of these people were inside of him, and he hadn't been able to integrate them so that he could just be himself. He didn't even know when this split had happened or which of these two people he was really supposed to be. One had developed to protect the other, but which one?
Sometimes he thought he knew, it became clearer. When Maureen called him to come fix her equipment or when Roger clung to his hand after waking up in the hospital, Mark knew exactly what his role was. That's what really hurt the most now. He knew he had been left behind because no one needed him at their side. He had almost always known that was the case with Maureen, though he had tried to deny it for a long time. The truth was, however, that no matter how much he loved her he could never make her love him back. She was too afraid to trust people, to really let them in. In some respects he was the same way, and it had always kept them apart.
Roger used to need him, and while Mark knew that Roger would never consciously abandon him, Roger was single-sighted. He completely devoted himself to whatever was important to him in that moment and forgot everything else. For a year, Mark had been the only real person in Roger's life. He had basically never left his side while he was struggling through his withdrawal from heroin and the world. But now Roger had Mimi, and Mark already felt the chill of fading into the background. It had been the same way in the past, with April and the band and the drugs. Mark would go from being everything to Roger to being someone who was always just there, loved but easily overlooked.
Who was he without these people? What would he do if they didn't need him anymore, if he found out they never really had? This loneliness had been thrust on him suddenly, and he realized that he wasn't ready to be alone. He was terrified that he would feel like this forever, and he didn't know how to stop that from happening, or even if he could.
Maybe it was minutes, or maybe hours, that passed with Mark sitting motionless on that bench. Sometimes he thought and at other times he just sat. Occasionally he would move to swipe at a tear or clench his fists in frustration. Orange street lamps flickered on one by one as the sky began to darken and the temperature began to drop. Mark finally looked up and took in his surroundings. There was nothing for him to do but try to find a place to sleep for the night. In the morning he would figure out what to do. Things always looked better in the morning.
Mark stood, stretching his tired muscles and pulling his coat tighter around his body. Damn, it was cold. The loft was a few blocks away, and not knowing where else to go, he began walking toward it slowly. His head was down, and so he didn't notice her until it was almost too late. When he looked up and saw Maureen, his immediate reaction was to duck back, keeping the edge of a building between them. He leaned over so that he could see her, suddenly becoming aware of his own heart beat.
God, she was beautiful. She had her red wool coat pulled tightly around her body, partly to protect herself from the biting cold and partly because she knew it looked good that way. Her hair was loose, and she looked like she had been crying. Maybe it was just the light, but he hoped she had been crying. He knew it was cruel, but he wanted her to be as miserable as he had been that day.
She rattled the door handle of the building, just as he had done. She looked frustrated when it didn't open, though the padlock must have led her to expect that. Why had she come looking for him? Did she want to apologize? Was she angry, or was she worried about him? Did she want to kiss him again?
There was one part of him that desperately wanted to step out onto the street and call her name.
"Maureen! I'm here. I love you."
Then she would turn around and sigh with relief before throwing herself into his arms and telling him in a voice that was half angry and half overjoyed that he could never leave her again.
Nice screenplay, Mark, he thought.
In reality, talking to her would probably only make things worse. She would make him come back to her apartment, because as heartless as she could be sometimes she would never let him sleep on the street. And they would fight again. He'd say something nasty or she would do something cruel, and they wouldn't even be able to salvage a friendship after the passionate disaster that had been their relationship. Or she would kiss him again, and he'd fall head over heels one more time.
Would that be so bad? This is your chance to try to open up to someone Mark, to let someone really get to know you. Go talk to her!
It wouldn't work though; he knew it wouldn't. He loved Maureen, but he knew how she operated. If they did get back together, Mark would grow used to needing her again and she would leave. He couldn't take it another time. Once, shame on her. Four or five times, shame on him. Besides, he knew they were better apart. They had never been a very good couple to begin with, and most of Mark was ready to move on. He loved her, but he knew she was not what he needed.
He just didn't want to be alone.
He continued to watch her as she glanced up and down the street, checked the lot, and called his name a few times. The sight of the lot made her angry; she kicked the fence in frustration and muttered darkly under her breath. He wanted to sneak up behind her and wrap his arms around her, maybe kiss her so that she wouldn't be able to say anything. But instead, he watched her walk away and disappear down the street.
**I shouldn't try to rewrite things while I'm half asleep. I changed most of Mark's thoughts, and I'm not yet sure if they work. So this might all be different tomorrow! More coming soon...**