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November 1995: Voice Mail 14
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SPEAK! *BEEP*
"You know, you can't just not answer the phone and pretend you're not there. I'm the landlord. I'm not stupid."
***********
Visits to You
***********
It was early afternoon. He had stayed in bed all morning and ignored all urges to eat. Better just to go back to bed then get up and face another day. He closed his eyes and tried to drift off to sleep, not even aware of when he did. He opened his eyes. In the corner of the room sat a girl running her hand lightly across the strings of his guitar that lay propped in the corner. He couldn't even remember how it got there. Mark must have moved it. "I want to hear you play again," she spoke softly.
"You know I don't anymore," he replied.
"Write me a song." Her eyes looked at him longingly as she continued brushing the instrument with her fingers, yet producing no sound.
"You know I'm no good at writing music. That was Jonathan's thing. And I'm not in the band anymore so it doesn't matter anyway." He rolled over and faced the other wall only to find her standing on the other side.
"You can do it," she smiled, "I always believed in you."
He rolled onto his back and stared up at the ceiling. "You did, didn't you? Said I'd make my mark on the world before I was through."
"Promise me you'll make something of your life, Roger. Promise me you'll be happy."
He sighed. "I promise Ap..." He sat up to find himself alone.
********
Letter 11
********
Dear Mom,
So your little boy is single again. Maureen and I broke-up. It wasn't too messy or anything. I guess we both kind of saw it coming. She said she felt that we weren't really talking anymore. At least not how we used to before in the diner. Funny since I always thought that those talks basically consisted of her complaining about her job or her old boyfriends or her career for that matter and me nodding my head. Anyway, she found someone new, and I...well, I still have my camera. It wouldn't have been so bad except that she left me for another women. Now, I didn't see that one coming. It is the nineties I guess.
I hope everyone's doing well back in Scarsdale. Roger's been talking about getting back to his music as of late. Maybe it's a way to break up the monotony of doing, well, nothing. I had moved his guitar back into his room thinking that maybe he just needed a little incentive to get himself out of his funk. I just think this time of year brings back too many bad memories for him. We're probably going to skip the holidays.
Love,
Mark
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December 1995: Voice Mail 15
**************************
SPEAK! *BEEP*
"Mark, I know your whole deal with screening your calls and this really isn't funny anymore. I'm giving you all a week and then I'm coming over there. It doesn't have to be like this..."
November 1995: Voice Mail 14
**************************
SPEAK! *BEEP*
"You know, you can't just not answer the phone and pretend you're not there. I'm the landlord. I'm not stupid."
***********
Visits to You
***********
It was early afternoon. He had stayed in bed all morning and ignored all urges to eat. Better just to go back to bed then get up and face another day. He closed his eyes and tried to drift off to sleep, not even aware of when he did. He opened his eyes. In the corner of the room sat a girl running her hand lightly across the strings of his guitar that lay propped in the corner. He couldn't even remember how it got there. Mark must have moved it. "I want to hear you play again," she spoke softly.
"You know I don't anymore," he replied.
"Write me a song." Her eyes looked at him longingly as she continued brushing the instrument with her fingers, yet producing no sound.
"You know I'm no good at writing music. That was Jonathan's thing. And I'm not in the band anymore so it doesn't matter anyway." He rolled over and faced the other wall only to find her standing on the other side.
"You can do it," she smiled, "I always believed in you."
He rolled onto his back and stared up at the ceiling. "You did, didn't you? Said I'd make my mark on the world before I was through."
"Promise me you'll make something of your life, Roger. Promise me you'll be happy."
He sighed. "I promise Ap..." He sat up to find himself alone.
********
Letter 11
********
Dear Mom,
So your little boy is single again. Maureen and I broke-up. It wasn't too messy or anything. I guess we both kind of saw it coming. She said she felt that we weren't really talking anymore. At least not how we used to before in the diner. Funny since I always thought that those talks basically consisted of her complaining about her job or her old boyfriends or her career for that matter and me nodding my head. Anyway, she found someone new, and I...well, I still have my camera. It wouldn't have been so bad except that she left me for another women. Now, I didn't see that one coming. It is the nineties I guess.
I hope everyone's doing well back in Scarsdale. Roger's been talking about getting back to his music as of late. Maybe it's a way to break up the monotony of doing, well, nothing. I had moved his guitar back into his room thinking that maybe he just needed a little incentive to get himself out of his funk. I just think this time of year brings back too many bad memories for him. We're probably going to skip the holidays.
Love,
Mark
**************************
December 1995: Voice Mail 15
**************************
SPEAK! *BEEP*
"Mark, I know your whole deal with screening your calls and this really isn't funny anymore. I'm giving you all a week and then I'm coming over there. It doesn't have to be like this..."