They're, as always, not mine..
***
Mark paused outside of Maureen's doorway, with his hand raised to knock. Being with Collins and Angel the last few days had made him realize the importance of his little family. So many circumstances had pushed them apart, and he wanted to help bring them back again. And, as much as Mark might want to avoid the fact now that he was actually standing outside her appartment, that included Maureen. There had been a heaviness in his heart every time he thought about her and all that had been left unsaid between them the last two months, and he needed to fix that.
So Mark finally found the strength to knock on the door. Maureen looked up from the magazine she had been reading at the sound and walked toward the door, half hoping that it was Joanne. She looked through the peephole out into the hallway to find Mark standing there. She sighed and rested her head against the door, contemplating her next move. He didn't look angry, just uncertain, but Maureen realized that he probably knew she was standing behind the door, staring at him and thinking. If he wanted to patch things over, he had made the biggest step in coming here; the least she could do was let him in.
"Hi," Mark said with a sight smile when Maureen's face appeared.
"Hi," she replied. She didn't look particularly sad or tired, leaning against the doorframe, like she had before. There was a studied indifference in her eyes, but Mark knew better. She was still beautiful; no matter what Maureen would always be beautiful to him.
"Can.. I come in?" he asked, knowing that the ball was in his court now, his responsibility.
"Of course."
"Thanks," Mark replied, walking into her apartment and trying not to look as awkward as he felt. He fully suspected that he was failing miserably.
"What's that?" Maureen asked, gesturing to the plastic bag in Mark's hand.
"Ice-cream," he answered, handing it to her with a shrug. "I thought you might like some."
Maureen took the bag toward the kitchen, and Mark drifted to the couch, this a familiar routine. Mark always brought ice-cream. Maureen paused while scooping at that thought, suddenly overcome with sadness, remembering the way things were when they were still good. She looked at him over the counter, like she had done a few nights ago, like she had done a million times before that. Mark had an insatiable sweet tooth and enough innocence still intact to believe that ice-cream could help smooth over any situation and heal any wounds.
Maureen grabbed two spoons from a drawer and walked into her little living room. Handing a bowl to the silent filmmaker, she sank into a chair beside him. They both ate their ice-cream quietly, looking down into their bowls, the only sound in the room that of silver spoons clinking against Maureen's white and yellow Corelle.
When Mark finally put down his bowl, not yet sure enough to look up and make eye contact, Maureen put her bowl down as well. She hadn't really been eating anyway, just fussing with the contents of her bowl, watching the ice-cream turn into a sugary kind of soup, waiting for him to speak.
"Maureen.." he murmured, unsure of how to begin. She unconsciously tugged at her hair, and Mark realized that she was scared. Of what?
"Well," he continued. "I guess I just wanted to say I'm sorry. For the things I said, the way I left."
Maureen sighed and covered her face with her hands. "No, you were completely justified in what you did. You shouldn't be apologizing to me. I had no right... I shouldn't have done that to you."
He smiled. "You're forgiven."
"Damnit Mark," she said, exasperated. "How can you do that? How can you forgive people so easily? What's to stop them from hurting you again?"
"You won't do that Maureen," Mark replied, becoming suddenly serious. "You won't use me like that again, because next time I won't come back, and you're too important to me to lose like that. I'm too important to you."
"What does that mean?" Maureen asked, the assumption in his voice making her question icy.
"What does it sound like it means?" Mark replied. "Jesus Maureen, you can't pretend that I don't mean anything to you forever."
"Oh really?"
"Yes! I know you better than that, much as you hate to admit it."
She stood and snatched their bowls from the coffee table, hurt and angry and unable to meet his eyes anymore.
"I don't love you anymore Mark," she said as flatly as she could, remembering his words from the night. They had barely stopped playing in her head since.
"I know you don't," he replied quietly as she threw the bowls into the sink, making as much noise as she could while washing them. "I never even knew if you did in the first place."
That was too much for her. Her anger crumbled as she choked back a sob, her hands slowly dropping from what they were doing to clutch at her stomach. Mark looked up from his clenched hands when the sound of Maureen's frustrated domesiticity stopped and saw her crying. Her eyes met his, and he recognized the look on her face. He stood, knowing she was about to run.
"Maureen..." he said.
"Oh God Mark," she replied, her voice thick with unshed tears. "Of course you didn't know, I never told you!"
"It's alright Maureen," he said, working his way around the counter toward her. He lay his hands on her shoulders. "It's okay--"
"It's not okay!" she retaliated, hitting his comforting hands away from her. "It's not okay!"
She began to sob, slowly sinking down to the floor of the kitchen, crying to herself.
"It's not okay. Why couldn't I tell you? Why couldn't I..."
Mark sank down beside her, and slowly she let him put his arms around her until she rested her head against his chest. Somehow in that moment, Maureen finally realized what Mark really meant to her, finally realized what she meant to him, and she didn't ever want him to let go of her for it.
"I loved you Mark," she whispered as he ran his hands soothingly over her arms. "I loved you so much. I think that's why I was so horrible to you sometimes."
"You weren't that horrible," he said, brushing a piece of hair out of her eyes. "Most of the time."
She laughed softly, but then became serious again. "Why couldn't I tell you? Why do I always push away everyone who cares for me?"
"You're not going to get rid of me."
"I'm going to end up alone Mark, who would want to be with me?" she asked, looking up into his face. "I'm such a bitch."
"No! You're not. You're energetic and passionate and beautiful," he kissed her head. He paused. "But.. you know that you can do really awful things sometimes."
"I know," she whispered.
"Then why do you do it?" he asked. "You broke my heart Maureen, more than once, and you did it on purpose."
She began to cry again and pressed herself closer to his chest. "I know. Mark, I'm so sorry, I don't know why I do what I do! I never wanted to hurt you..."
Mark wanted to know why, but he knew he'd never get a satisfactory answer. And he suddenly didn't need one anymore. He had always mentally understood that Maureen was wrong for him, but he hadn't fully accepted it emotionally until now. So he just brushed her hair away from her face like he used to.
"Mark?" Maureen questioned softly.
"Yeah?"
She bit her lip. "About what you said before..."
"About my still loving you?"
"Yeah," she nodded, surprised that he had said it.
"Well," he said openly as he helped her up off of the floor. "I do still love you. I loved you practically from the first moment I saw you. But I'm getting over it. You're just going to have to give me a little time; you're one of those people that's kind of hard to get out of your system."
She laughed, not quite bitterly but almost. "Like an infection."
"Hardly," he returned. "I just.. I don't want to lose you as my friend Maureen. You drive me up the wall sometimes, but you're one of the best friends I've ever had. I've missed you these last few weeks."
Maureen smiled. "I've missed you too."
"No you haven't!" he laughed. "You've missed my electronic skills, but I'm sure you've had enough diversions to keep you from worrying about it too much."
She punched at him. "Screw you!"
"Would you please?"
"I knew that's why you missed me!"
He laughed and pulled her into a hug. "Seriously Maureen, I want us to be friends. For real, not in that break-up-lets-be-friends kind of way."
She smiled. "I want that too."
"Good, then it's a deal. You won't kiss me anymore, and I'll promise to fall out of love with you as soon as possible."
Just don't ever stop loving me Mark...
"More ice-cream?" she asked.
"Absolutely."
She laughed and gestured him toward the couch, picking up the bowls she thrown into the sink earlier.
"You must think I'm crazy," Maureen said to Mark over the counter as she washed the old ice-cream from the bowls. "I think I've cried more these past few days than the last few years. I don't know what's wrong with me."
"Art is suffering," Mark replied, flipping through the magazine on her coffee table. "It's all material for future roles."
"Spoken like a true filmmaker."
Mark laughed, shaking his head.
"Maybe," he said to himself.
Maureen pulled the chocolate ice-cream from the freezer, scooping until Mark's bowl was full. She knew he loved it, and he'd probably spent the only money in his pocket on it. She took a little for herself and began to return it.
"Oh my God!" she said as she was putting the lid back on the container. "I completely forgot. This news reporter found one of my fliers by the lot and called me looking for information about the riot and how it started. He flipped when I told him that my friend had it all on tape. He wants to air the footage!"
Mark looked up at her, his eyes wide and revealing. "Are you joking?"
She shook her head, returning to the living room and handing him his bowl. "Nope. It was a few hours after you left. I went to the loft to look for you, but you weren't there and I didn't know where you had gone... hey, where did you go?"
"Yeah, I know. I saw you," Mark replied absently, running his fingers through his hair.
My film, someone wants to put my film on television...
He corrected his thinking. It wasn't really a film; it wasn't something he had loved and created, just something he had observed, documented. But the thought was still exciting, that people would actually get to see something he had filmed. He had captured something meaningful that justified him having his camera constantly at his side.
"Mark?" Maureen's voice divined his thoughts, though it was obvious from her tone that it wasn't the first time she had tried to get his attention. He looked up at her. "You zoned on me."
He shook his head. "Sorry."
"What do you mean you saw me?" she asked, her brow furrowed. "And where did you go? Where have you been?"
"I was across the street from the loft when you came looking for me," he replied, his mind still not entirely with her. "I was watching you."
"Oh," she said softly. He couldn't tell if she was hurt by that fact or if she understood why he hadn't wanted to talk to her. "And you've been...?"
"Oh, I ran into Angel and Collins," Mark said. "I've been staying with them."
Maureen blinked. "That's lucky."
"Yeah." He saw no reason to tell her he had been homeless for a night. It would serve no purpose other than making her feel unnecessarily guilty.
Someone wants my film.
"Have you talked to Joanne?"
Maureen shook her head, eating a large spoonful of ice-cream.
"I tried calling," she said, "but she didn't pick up."
"Don't give up on her. She wants to be with you, I know she does, but you're going to have to give her a little time."
"If you say so Mark, then I believe you." Maureen paused. "I really do care about her."
"I know. Just makes sure she knows that too, okay?"
She nodded. "I will. I'm going to be better, I swear."
"Do you think you could give me her number?" Mark asked. "You know, in case I need any legal advise when it comes to my film."
Maureen looked at him suspiciously, and he laughed. "I promise I will not talk about you."
"I don't know if I like the idea of you two becoming friends," she said, "but okay. For the sake of your film, if nothing else."
"Thanks Maureen," he replied as she reached to the kitchen counter behind her for a pad of paper and a pencil. "Oh hey, I forgot. We're having a New Year's Eve party, want to come?"
"Who's we?" she asked, jotting down Joanne's office number and handing it to Mark.
"Me, Collins, Angel, Roger, and Mimi," he said, pocketing the slip of paper. Joanne would be there too, if he had anything to say about it. "We're going to break back into our building."
Maureen laughed. "How are you planning to do that?"
"No clue. I leave the logistics to our anarchist friend. Want to come?"
"Yeah!" she said. "What should I bring?"
"Just your lovely, adorable self should be sufficient," Mark replied, standing. "I'd better get going."
Maureen nodded and stood as well. She wrapped her arms around Mark's neck, and he held her closely for a long moment.
"I really am glad you came here Mark," she said. "I'm glad you're my friend again."
"Me too," he replied softly. "Want me to call you later? We can go get coffee or something?"
"Sounds good," she said, opening the door for him. "Bye Mark."
"See ya Maureen."
When Mark reached the street, he headed toward Alphabet City where he knew Roger and Collins and Angel were waiting for him. Somehow everything that had fallen apart had come back together again, just like Angel had said it would. He realized as he was walking that he was happy, the happiest he had been in a long time. He had to remember this feeling, had to remember not to hide, to let people in. And he wasn't stupid, he realized that things wouldn't always be this easy. All he had to do was look at Collins or Angel or Roger or Mimi to know that there was lots of pain in the future, but he had to remember that if he wanted to love people he had to accept the pain that came along with it. And deep down - at least in that moment - he knew the truth.
He was going to be okay.
*
"Pan to the padlocked door. New Year's Rockin' Eve..."
-- the end