1 June
"Mark, Maureen called. Again." Roger is in his usual spot, sitting on the table, guitar in his lap.
"That's nice." I throw my jacket off and slump onto the couch.
"She really wants to talk to you. How come you are blowing her off?"
"Because." I fall back down on the couch.
"Gee, you're in a good mood." Roger strums his guitar harshly. I throw him a dirty look. "What?"
"Just… just be quiet. Ok?"
"So I guess the job hunt didn't go well, huh?"
"No, it didn't."
"Look, I can lend you some money."
"No thanks."
"Or, I could get you a job."
"I know, Roger." I roll my eyes.
"Mark, come on! How great would it be to work together? Your film, my music. It is so perfect!"
"Yes, I know. You've told me this one hundred times."
"Well, just agree to do it and I'll shut up about it."
I sit up and look at him. "I told you no. Can you just drop it?"
"Come on, this would get you some great exposure."
"I don't care, I make documentaries, not rock videos."
The conversation continues on, the same one we've had at least once a day for the past month. Roger just doesn't understand how I can say no to this opportunity.
"Mark, I put my ass on the line to get you this chance."
"I didn't ask you to."
"Fine, I give up." He puts the guitar down and goes over to the phone. "Last chance, you sure you don't want to do this?"
"Yup, I'm sure."
"Okay…" He dials a number, "Randy? Hey it's Roger. Davis. From the Well Hungarians? Yeah, well, my roommate decided he can't direct the video. Ok. Ok. Yeah. Ok, thanks." He holds the phone for a few moments and drops it on the receiver. He rushes past me on the couch, grabs his guitar and throws in the case.
"Where you going?"
"Nowhere."
"Roger, what is it?"
"Nothing that you should worry about." He snaps. His face is red and he glares at me. "We don't get a video."
"What?"
He drops his guitar. "Randy said our CD isn't selling that well and no radio stations are playing it."
"Oh."
"I guess I thought if I handed them a director, who would work for cheap, he would be more willing."
"Cheap? I thought you said I'd be making a lot of money."
"Well a lot to you is cheap to them." I ponder this for a second and he continues. "I don't know, maybe we aren't good enough."
"You said your shows were selling out."
"Yeah, but no one was buying CDs."
"But you said…"
"Forget what I said! It doesn't matter." He picks up his guitar and heads to the door. "I'll be back later."
As he leaves, the phone starts ringing again. I screen.
"Mark, honey, it is Maureen. Call me! We haven't talked in…"
Before I can debate it, I pick up the phone.
"Maureen?"
"Mark! Where have you been? We haven't talked in forever!"
"Hmm, I hadn't noticed." I grab the phone and drag over to the table and hop on top. "What did you want?"
"Are you mad at me?"
"Why would I be?" I shake her head. Does she not even care?
"I don't know. We just never went that long without talking or seeing each other. Not even when I broke…"
"Maureen… the fucking scarf, ok?"
"You'll still hung up on that?"
"Yeah. I am."
"Shit, I knew I should have never have told you."
"You should have never lied to me to begin with!"
"Mark, it was years ago! Does it really matter?"
I think about that Christmas where everything was perfect. How I had such hopes for the future and was truly happy. I thought Maureen and I were going to be together forever.
"Mark, you there?"
"Yeah, sorry."
"That's ok. So ask me about my good news!"
I take a deep sigh, "What is your good news?"
"I got a part in a play! A lead! It is non-equity and off-off Broadway, but still."
"That's great, congratulations." I smile in spite of myself.
"You'll come right?"
"Yeah, when is it?"
"Next week. Bring Roger too."
Bring Roger. Doubtful. We hardly talk anymore unless it is about the video.
"Ok, I'll try."
"I'll call you later honey! Love ya!" She hangs up before I can get another word in.
What is it about Maureen that I just can't let go? One of the reasons I ended it with Theresa was that she didn't make me feel how Maureen did. What if no one ever will? What was it about her, about us, that made it so magical? I decide to search for answers.
I go into my bedroom and tear through my closet. Boxes and boxes are piled in the back, filled with old scripts, old reels, and even a few videos. Nothing is labeled of course, but I do have an idea of which box I'm looking for. I pull it out and blow the dust off.
I push the projector into the living room and plug it in, holding my breath that it doesn't cause the power to go out. I grab the box of old reels and randomly pick one out.
As the projection flashes across the wall, I see my first view of the loft. Benny is unloading boxes, yelling at me to turn off the camera. Collins comes into the screen and takes a box from Benny and waves. Collins. Wow, he looks so young and healthy. The camera bounces up the stairs and into the loft. Collins waves his arms around grandly, as if we are entering a mansion, instead of a cramped apartment. I panned the camera past Roger and April, who really didn't seem too interested in us.
I stop the film at a shot of Collins pulling Roger off the couch. I didn't know that Collins had AIDS at the point. Roger may have already had it to by then. I never could have imagined how much my life was going to change. AIDS was only something I learned about in health class, not something I thought I would have to deal with.
I stop the reel and take it down, and put on another. This one the image is jumpy and dark, but I recognize it. It is from a party we had for Collins' 25th birthday. The loft was packed with people. Maureen was there that night, we had just started dating. That night, since she didn't really know anyone, she stuck by me, and flirted with my camera.
I watch the screen flicker with images of her modeling and turning and performing for me. People randomly walk by and wave to the camera, offering me beers, dancing with Maureen and just having fun.
Suddenly, I can't see anything, because Roger has come home and opened the door, letting in the light from the hallway.
"Hey, what are you doing?" He closes the door and I look up from the screen.
"Oh nothing, just watching some old stuff." I move to turn off the projector.
"No, don't, I want to watch too."
"Ok."
He sits down on the couch near me. We watch Maureen twirl around some more.
"When is this from?"
"Collins 25th. That party we had. Do you remember?"
"Uh, not really. I was a little…"
"Fucked up?" I finish for him.
"Yeah." He laughs quietly.
The camera finally pulls away from Maureen and moves towards Roger's room. A red light blinds the camera for a moment. I reach up and turn the switch off.
"What are you doing?"
"Nothing. I just didn't think you would want to see the next part."
"Why? Is it April? It's fine, play it."
I take a deep breath, I know what is next on the film, and it isn't just April. I turn the projector back on, and the camera focuses on the few people sitting around on Roger's bed. It zooms in on Roger, first his face, though he is looking down, concentrating really hard. Then it moves down to his arm, where he is injecting himself.
"Oh Christ, Mark, shut it off." I move quickly and I'm about to, but then he tells me not to. I look up and April is leaning over kissing Roger, he pulls her down on top of him. The camera zooms in to their faces to the point where you can't even tell what you are looking at. Suddenly it goes black and ends. "Oh man, I can't believe…"
"I know, I'm sorry."
"Why the hell would you film that?" He stands up and moves towards me.
"I… I don't know. I'm a filmmaker, that's what I do."
"Bullshit. Why would you film me shooting up?"
"Because… because… I don't know. I probably didn't ever realize what you were doing."
"Yeah, right. You knew exactly what was going on. You always did." I cringe at his words, but I remain silent. "Is there anymore?"
"What?"
"Is there anymore like that? How many times have you filmed me without me knowing?"
"I don't know, yeah, I guess there are other ones."
"Give them to me."
"What?"
"Why would you want them? Give them to me!"
"Roger, they are all mixed in with my other stuff. I can't just cut out those parts without doing a big editing job."
"Then give me everything."
"No! Listen, I'll never show them to anyone. You know that, you can trust me."
"Can I?" He picks up the box of reels and sorts through them. "Don't you label these things?"
"No, I…"
He pushes the box at me. "If I ever see anything like that shit again…"
"Don't worry, you won't." I grip onto the box. "I'm sorry."
"Whatever." He grabs his guitar and goes into his bedroom and slams the door.
I rewind the film and quietly put everything away. I put the box back into my closet, making sure to put it back in the middle of the pile.
I don't know why I filmed that. And there are others. He never realized I was there, and I never said a word. I was afraid to. Roger has a temper, and when he was using, he was really scary. It was mostly when he was off and looking for a fix.
"Hey Mark?" He's standing by my door.
"Yeah?" I pretend to pick up some laundry, acting nonchalant.
"I'm sorry about getting pissed off. I'm just not really proud of my past, you know?"
"Yeah, I know." We stand quietly for a few moments. "If you want, I can go and erase it all." I don't want to, but he's my best friend.
"No, I have another idea." He looks at me strangely, "You aren't going to like it though."
"What?"
"Why don't you cut together that footage and April and you could make a documentary of me and the band."
"You're joking, right?"
"No, I'm not. You keep saying you don't make rock videos, that you make documentaries. You have the footage. It could help me out."
"No fucking way."
"Mark, please?"
"Mark, Maureen called. Again." Roger is in his usual spot, sitting on the table, guitar in his lap.
"That's nice." I throw my jacket off and slump onto the couch.
"She really wants to talk to you. How come you are blowing her off?"
"Because." I fall back down on the couch.
"Gee, you're in a good mood." Roger strums his guitar harshly. I throw him a dirty look. "What?"
"Just… just be quiet. Ok?"
"So I guess the job hunt didn't go well, huh?"
"No, it didn't."
"Look, I can lend you some money."
"No thanks."
"Or, I could get you a job."
"I know, Roger." I roll my eyes.
"Mark, come on! How great would it be to work together? Your film, my music. It is so perfect!"
"Yes, I know. You've told me this one hundred times."
"Well, just agree to do it and I'll shut up about it."
I sit up and look at him. "I told you no. Can you just drop it?"
"Come on, this would get you some great exposure."
"I don't care, I make documentaries, not rock videos."
The conversation continues on, the same one we've had at least once a day for the past month. Roger just doesn't understand how I can say no to this opportunity.
"Mark, I put my ass on the line to get you this chance."
"I didn't ask you to."
"Fine, I give up." He puts the guitar down and goes over to the phone. "Last chance, you sure you don't want to do this?"
"Yup, I'm sure."
"Okay…" He dials a number, "Randy? Hey it's Roger. Davis. From the Well Hungarians? Yeah, well, my roommate decided he can't direct the video. Ok. Ok. Yeah. Ok, thanks." He holds the phone for a few moments and drops it on the receiver. He rushes past me on the couch, grabs his guitar and throws in the case.
"Where you going?"
"Nowhere."
"Roger, what is it?"
"Nothing that you should worry about." He snaps. His face is red and he glares at me. "We don't get a video."
"What?"
He drops his guitar. "Randy said our CD isn't selling that well and no radio stations are playing it."
"Oh."
"I guess I thought if I handed them a director, who would work for cheap, he would be more willing."
"Cheap? I thought you said I'd be making a lot of money."
"Well a lot to you is cheap to them." I ponder this for a second and he continues. "I don't know, maybe we aren't good enough."
"You said your shows were selling out."
"Yeah, but no one was buying CDs."
"But you said…"
"Forget what I said! It doesn't matter." He picks up his guitar and heads to the door. "I'll be back later."
As he leaves, the phone starts ringing again. I screen.
"Mark, honey, it is Maureen. Call me! We haven't talked in…"
Before I can debate it, I pick up the phone.
"Maureen?"
"Mark! Where have you been? We haven't talked in forever!"
"Hmm, I hadn't noticed." I grab the phone and drag over to the table and hop on top. "What did you want?"
"Are you mad at me?"
"Why would I be?" I shake her head. Does she not even care?
"I don't know. We just never went that long without talking or seeing each other. Not even when I broke…"
"Maureen… the fucking scarf, ok?"
"You'll still hung up on that?"
"Yeah. I am."
"Shit, I knew I should have never have told you."
"You should have never lied to me to begin with!"
"Mark, it was years ago! Does it really matter?"
I think about that Christmas where everything was perfect. How I had such hopes for the future and was truly happy. I thought Maureen and I were going to be together forever.
"Mark, you there?"
"Yeah, sorry."
"That's ok. So ask me about my good news!"
I take a deep sigh, "What is your good news?"
"I got a part in a play! A lead! It is non-equity and off-off Broadway, but still."
"That's great, congratulations." I smile in spite of myself.
"You'll come right?"
"Yeah, when is it?"
"Next week. Bring Roger too."
Bring Roger. Doubtful. We hardly talk anymore unless it is about the video.
"Ok, I'll try."
"I'll call you later honey! Love ya!" She hangs up before I can get another word in.
What is it about Maureen that I just can't let go? One of the reasons I ended it with Theresa was that she didn't make me feel how Maureen did. What if no one ever will? What was it about her, about us, that made it so magical? I decide to search for answers.
I go into my bedroom and tear through my closet. Boxes and boxes are piled in the back, filled with old scripts, old reels, and even a few videos. Nothing is labeled of course, but I do have an idea of which box I'm looking for. I pull it out and blow the dust off.
I push the projector into the living room and plug it in, holding my breath that it doesn't cause the power to go out. I grab the box of old reels and randomly pick one out.
As the projection flashes across the wall, I see my first view of the loft. Benny is unloading boxes, yelling at me to turn off the camera. Collins comes into the screen and takes a box from Benny and waves. Collins. Wow, he looks so young and healthy. The camera bounces up the stairs and into the loft. Collins waves his arms around grandly, as if we are entering a mansion, instead of a cramped apartment. I panned the camera past Roger and April, who really didn't seem too interested in us.
I stop the film at a shot of Collins pulling Roger off the couch. I didn't know that Collins had AIDS at the point. Roger may have already had it to by then. I never could have imagined how much my life was going to change. AIDS was only something I learned about in health class, not something I thought I would have to deal with.
I stop the reel and take it down, and put on another. This one the image is jumpy and dark, but I recognize it. It is from a party we had for Collins' 25th birthday. The loft was packed with people. Maureen was there that night, we had just started dating. That night, since she didn't really know anyone, she stuck by me, and flirted with my camera.
I watch the screen flicker with images of her modeling and turning and performing for me. People randomly walk by and wave to the camera, offering me beers, dancing with Maureen and just having fun.
Suddenly, I can't see anything, because Roger has come home and opened the door, letting in the light from the hallway.
"Hey, what are you doing?" He closes the door and I look up from the screen.
"Oh nothing, just watching some old stuff." I move to turn off the projector.
"No, don't, I want to watch too."
"Ok."
He sits down on the couch near me. We watch Maureen twirl around some more.
"When is this from?"
"Collins 25th. That party we had. Do you remember?"
"Uh, not really. I was a little…"
"Fucked up?" I finish for him.
"Yeah." He laughs quietly.
The camera finally pulls away from Maureen and moves towards Roger's room. A red light blinds the camera for a moment. I reach up and turn the switch off.
"What are you doing?"
"Nothing. I just didn't think you would want to see the next part."
"Why? Is it April? It's fine, play it."
I take a deep breath, I know what is next on the film, and it isn't just April. I turn the projector back on, and the camera focuses on the few people sitting around on Roger's bed. It zooms in on Roger, first his face, though he is looking down, concentrating really hard. Then it moves down to his arm, where he is injecting himself.
"Oh Christ, Mark, shut it off." I move quickly and I'm about to, but then he tells me not to. I look up and April is leaning over kissing Roger, he pulls her down on top of him. The camera zooms in to their faces to the point where you can't even tell what you are looking at. Suddenly it goes black and ends. "Oh man, I can't believe…"
"I know, I'm sorry."
"Why the hell would you film that?" He stands up and moves towards me.
"I… I don't know. I'm a filmmaker, that's what I do."
"Bullshit. Why would you film me shooting up?"
"Because… because… I don't know. I probably didn't ever realize what you were doing."
"Yeah, right. You knew exactly what was going on. You always did." I cringe at his words, but I remain silent. "Is there anymore?"
"What?"
"Is there anymore like that? How many times have you filmed me without me knowing?"
"I don't know, yeah, I guess there are other ones."
"Give them to me."
"What?"
"Why would you want them? Give them to me!"
"Roger, they are all mixed in with my other stuff. I can't just cut out those parts without doing a big editing job."
"Then give me everything."
"No! Listen, I'll never show them to anyone. You know that, you can trust me."
"Can I?" He picks up the box of reels and sorts through them. "Don't you label these things?"
"No, I…"
He pushes the box at me. "If I ever see anything like that shit again…"
"Don't worry, you won't." I grip onto the box. "I'm sorry."
"Whatever." He grabs his guitar and goes into his bedroom and slams the door.
I rewind the film and quietly put everything away. I put the box back into my closet, making sure to put it back in the middle of the pile.
I don't know why I filmed that. And there are others. He never realized I was there, and I never said a word. I was afraid to. Roger has a temper, and when he was using, he was really scary. It was mostly when he was off and looking for a fix.
"Hey Mark?" He's standing by my door.
"Yeah?" I pretend to pick up some laundry, acting nonchalant.
"I'm sorry about getting pissed off. I'm just not really proud of my past, you know?"
"Yeah, I know." We stand quietly for a few moments. "If you want, I can go and erase it all." I don't want to, but he's my best friend.
"No, I have another idea." He looks at me strangely, "You aren't going to like it though."
"What?"
"Why don't you cut together that footage and April and you could make a documentary of me and the band."
"You're joking, right?"
"No, I'm not. You keep saying you don't make rock videos, that you make documentaries. You have the footage. It could help me out."
"No fucking way."
"Mark, please?"