A/N: I just want to say, that I really didn't want Roger to be a bad guy. But yet, he keeps doing things that make him an ass. I like the character, I really really do. Believe me. No, I do. Sigh. Just go ahead and read.
July
"I'm moving out." He dropped the empty boxes on the floor around him. "Just thought you should know."
"Roger, come on. You don't have to." I'm waving a magazine in my face, trying to cool down. It feels about 300 degrees in the loft.
"Yeah, I do." He picks up a box and starts throwing old issues of Guitar magazine in it.
"Where are you going to go?"
"What, like I don't have friends?" He picks up a pile of books and looks through them. "There are lots of places for me to go."
"Yeah, but where are you going?"
"Doesn't matter." He grabs another empty box and glides into his room. I follow him and stand in the doorway.
"Roger, come on. Can't we get past this?"
"Past what? We're fine."
"No, we're not. But we can be. Come on Roger, we're best friends."
He snorts. "Are we? Could have fooled me."
"Look, I'm sorry that I didn't do the documentary. I've told you before..."
"...Just don't get into it again, ok? I know those images are hard for you to watch. If you are ever going to use them in a film, it is going to be your way, not trying to sell something. I've heard it before."
"Roger, please understand." I stand there staring at him.
"It's fine, Mark." He throws a bunch of clothes in the box. "Look, I got to go. I'll come by later and get the rest of my things." He pushes past me and grabs the other box and walks out the door.
He's right though. We really aren't best friends anymore. In fact, we are hardly even friends. For two weeks after he asked me to make a documentary, all we did was fight about it. We couldn't have a conversation without him making some snide remark, or without me calling him a sellout. Everything that we had been through in the past got thrown out the window. After those two weeks, we hardly spoke at all.
I'm just as guilty as he is. I was mad that he would even ask me to do that. Make a documentary about his drug use, and April's suicide, and the throw in clips of the band through the years? It astounded me that he could even ask such a thing. And it pissed him off that I said no.
A slight knock disturbs me from my thoughts. "Mark?" Mimi whispers. "You ok?"
"Yeah, I'm fine." She reaches out her arms and I walk into them.
"I just saw him leaving." She rubs my back, as I shake fighting back the tears. Why am I so upset? "Shh... calm down baby." She leads me over to the couch and sits me down. "Where is he going?" I shrug. "Is this permanent?" I shrug again. "Mark, what happened?"
"He just came home and said he was moving out." I sit up and look in her brown eyes, "Mimi, I think our friendship is really over."
"No sweetie, you just hit a road block. You guys will work through this. You have been through a lot worse." She takes my hand into her small one. "You'll be fine."
I pull my hand away. "How can you say that? He has never moved out like that before!"
"Uh, Santa Fe?"
"Yeah, but that was different." I fall back and slouch on the couch.
"How so? Because he left because of me?" She glares at me. "Mark, he came back then, he'll come back now."
"No, Mimi, it's different now. Today was the first time we spoke in two weeks. All we did before that was fight about the fucking video or documentary. I let him down. He asked me to do something and I said no."
"Yeah, you did. And for the first time in his life, he heard the word no from you. You stood up for what you believed in, and you can't go on doubting your decision.
"I know, but."
"Nope, no buts." She stands up and reaches out her arm to pull me up. "God, it is hot in here. Look, I have some extra money, why don't I take you to lunch? Someplace air conditioned."
"No, I'm ok."
"Mark?!" She gives me her look, a cross between demanding and pouting. A look, no man could ignore.
"Fine, fine. Let's go."
After lunch, I decide that I don't want to be alone, and decide to visit some old friends. I quickly leave the loft and head to the bus stop. It doesn't take too long and I'm back on the hot sidewalks. Still, the street is cooler than the loft. I think back to the last time I made this trip and how bitter cold it was. I laugh to myself and think one day I'll come when it is seventy degrees and clear. Of course, those days are far and few between in New York.
I walk through the cemetery along the path that I now have memorized. I slowly approach the two headstones. The rocks that I placed back in January still sit on top, untouched by snow, wind or rain. I stand in front of them and silently read the markings on the stones. It seems like a lifetime ago that I watched Collins and Angel dancing together in the street. Yet, at the same time, it seems like yesterday.
How does time slip by when the days seem so long?
"Hey, Collins and Angel." I look around, startled by my own voice. I don't see anyone anywhere near me. "I... uh... I just wanted to come back and..." I feel so silly talking to the graves. I stand there silent and think. Words escape my mouth again. "I'm still not finished, Collins. The film, it still sits among a pile of notes and ideas, but nothing to glue it all together. There have been roadblocks, many many roadblocks. I know, I know, no excuses. I have just been preoccupied. I was seeing someone for a little while. Surprised, huh? Actually, you are the first person I've told. Her name is Theresa and she was really sweet. I fucked it up. Like everything else I do, I fucked it up. I let her go without even giving her a chance. I was afraid of getting hurt again."
I fall down on my knees and move a little closer to Collins' grave. "The truth is Collins, everything has fallen apart. I hardly talk to Maureen or Joanne, Mimi and Roger broke up. And Roger and I, well, I don't think we are friends anymore. Something these past few months have changed in him. He has gotten obsessed with finding fame. He seems to want to try anything to get his name out there. So people will remember him, I guess. But does he want people to remember him for being a fool? I don't know, we just... we just don't connect anymore. I don't connect with anyone."
I shift my position so that I'm closer to Angel. I can just imagine what she would say. "Enough of the pity party Mark! You just have to live everyday to the fullest and with as much love as possible."
"Angel, I don't know if I'm capable of love anymore." I sit there again in silence. Wishing that Collins were here to give me some advice, or knock some sense into Roger. Longing for Angel to smile and just fill the room with happiness. For the millionth time, I curse the disease that took them away from me.
When I can't take the heat anymore, I head back home. A cool shower, since we have no hot water anyway, motivates me to go home quickly. When I get there, Roger is sitting on the table, legs crossed, his head in his hands.
"What's wrong?" He hasn't looked up, but it seems like he is crying.
"They dropped us." He mumbles into his hand.
"Huh?"
"They dropped us. The record label. Just like that, we're done." He finally looks up at me. "The band broke up. The other guys figured that we had our shot, and didn't make it. What's the sense anymore, right?"
"Roger, I'm sorry."
He slides off the table and starts walking towards me. His voice is monotone and his look serious. "They said we didn't have anything to make us stand out. That I was just another pretty boy front man."
"Roger..."
"Don't." He steps closer to me, forcing me to step backwards away from him. I can smell alcohol on his breath. "You had a chance to help us. To help me. The person you called your best friend. This was my dream and you took it away."
He has me backed against the wall. "No, Roger, I didn't. It has nothing to do with me."
"THE FUCK IT DOESN'T!" He slaps his hand violently around the wall, encasing me. "You just couldn't stand the thought of one of us making it. Or wait; maybe you were afraid that if you helped me, than you would make it. Then what would you have? You are so afraid of success..."
I try and duck around under his arm, but he grips onto me and pushes me back. "No, you're going to listen to me. Because once I leave this place, I'm never coming back."
"Roger..."
He slaps his hand against the wall again, causing me to flinch. "Best friends." He laughs. "What the hell does that mean anyway? You don't care about anyone but yourself. You sit on the sidelines and watch everyone else as life passes you by. You didn't even feel that I was important enough to tell me that you had a girlfriend."
I look up at him. "Yeah, I know. She called a few times. She is quite the talker."
"Why... why didn't you tell me?"
"No, why didn't you tell me?" He finally steps away. He walks over to the table and picks up a half empty bottle of Jack Daniels. He raises it towards me, as if he's toasting.
"You know you aren't supposed to drink when you are on the meds."
He laughs at me. Ok, maybe I shouldn't have said that. "I don't give a shit. Don't you get it? My dream is dead. I have nothing to live for."
Just then, Mimi walks in. "What is going on up here?" She looks around concerned and stops her gaze on Roger holding the bottle. "Oh."
"Oh look, Mimi Marquez! My one true love!" He is now slurring his speech and rocking back and forth. "One true love, yeah right. I loved April a million times more than you. In fact, I never even loved you."
She looks at me and shakes her head. "I'm leaving." She turns around, but he launches towards her and grabs her and kisses her, hard. She pushes him back. "Don't touch me!"
"No problem. And hey, don't leave. I will." He opens the door and turns around and looks at us, "Fuck you both." With that, he's out the door.
She and I just stare at each other silently.
July
"I'm moving out." He dropped the empty boxes on the floor around him. "Just thought you should know."
"Roger, come on. You don't have to." I'm waving a magazine in my face, trying to cool down. It feels about 300 degrees in the loft.
"Yeah, I do." He picks up a box and starts throwing old issues of Guitar magazine in it.
"Where are you going to go?"
"What, like I don't have friends?" He picks up a pile of books and looks through them. "There are lots of places for me to go."
"Yeah, but where are you going?"
"Doesn't matter." He grabs another empty box and glides into his room. I follow him and stand in the doorway.
"Roger, come on. Can't we get past this?"
"Past what? We're fine."
"No, we're not. But we can be. Come on Roger, we're best friends."
He snorts. "Are we? Could have fooled me."
"Look, I'm sorry that I didn't do the documentary. I've told you before..."
"...Just don't get into it again, ok? I know those images are hard for you to watch. If you are ever going to use them in a film, it is going to be your way, not trying to sell something. I've heard it before."
"Roger, please understand." I stand there staring at him.
"It's fine, Mark." He throws a bunch of clothes in the box. "Look, I got to go. I'll come by later and get the rest of my things." He pushes past me and grabs the other box and walks out the door.
He's right though. We really aren't best friends anymore. In fact, we are hardly even friends. For two weeks after he asked me to make a documentary, all we did was fight about it. We couldn't have a conversation without him making some snide remark, or without me calling him a sellout. Everything that we had been through in the past got thrown out the window. After those two weeks, we hardly spoke at all.
I'm just as guilty as he is. I was mad that he would even ask me to do that. Make a documentary about his drug use, and April's suicide, and the throw in clips of the band through the years? It astounded me that he could even ask such a thing. And it pissed him off that I said no.
A slight knock disturbs me from my thoughts. "Mark?" Mimi whispers. "You ok?"
"Yeah, I'm fine." She reaches out her arms and I walk into them.
"I just saw him leaving." She rubs my back, as I shake fighting back the tears. Why am I so upset? "Shh... calm down baby." She leads me over to the couch and sits me down. "Where is he going?" I shrug. "Is this permanent?" I shrug again. "Mark, what happened?"
"He just came home and said he was moving out." I sit up and look in her brown eyes, "Mimi, I think our friendship is really over."
"No sweetie, you just hit a road block. You guys will work through this. You have been through a lot worse." She takes my hand into her small one. "You'll be fine."
I pull my hand away. "How can you say that? He has never moved out like that before!"
"Uh, Santa Fe?"
"Yeah, but that was different." I fall back and slouch on the couch.
"How so? Because he left because of me?" She glares at me. "Mark, he came back then, he'll come back now."
"No, Mimi, it's different now. Today was the first time we spoke in two weeks. All we did before that was fight about the fucking video or documentary. I let him down. He asked me to do something and I said no."
"Yeah, you did. And for the first time in his life, he heard the word no from you. You stood up for what you believed in, and you can't go on doubting your decision.
"I know, but."
"Nope, no buts." She stands up and reaches out her arm to pull me up. "God, it is hot in here. Look, I have some extra money, why don't I take you to lunch? Someplace air conditioned."
"No, I'm ok."
"Mark?!" She gives me her look, a cross between demanding and pouting. A look, no man could ignore.
"Fine, fine. Let's go."
After lunch, I decide that I don't want to be alone, and decide to visit some old friends. I quickly leave the loft and head to the bus stop. It doesn't take too long and I'm back on the hot sidewalks. Still, the street is cooler than the loft. I think back to the last time I made this trip and how bitter cold it was. I laugh to myself and think one day I'll come when it is seventy degrees and clear. Of course, those days are far and few between in New York.
I walk through the cemetery along the path that I now have memorized. I slowly approach the two headstones. The rocks that I placed back in January still sit on top, untouched by snow, wind or rain. I stand in front of them and silently read the markings on the stones. It seems like a lifetime ago that I watched Collins and Angel dancing together in the street. Yet, at the same time, it seems like yesterday.
How does time slip by when the days seem so long?
"Hey, Collins and Angel." I look around, startled by my own voice. I don't see anyone anywhere near me. "I... uh... I just wanted to come back and..." I feel so silly talking to the graves. I stand there silent and think. Words escape my mouth again. "I'm still not finished, Collins. The film, it still sits among a pile of notes and ideas, but nothing to glue it all together. There have been roadblocks, many many roadblocks. I know, I know, no excuses. I have just been preoccupied. I was seeing someone for a little while. Surprised, huh? Actually, you are the first person I've told. Her name is Theresa and she was really sweet. I fucked it up. Like everything else I do, I fucked it up. I let her go without even giving her a chance. I was afraid of getting hurt again."
I fall down on my knees and move a little closer to Collins' grave. "The truth is Collins, everything has fallen apart. I hardly talk to Maureen or Joanne, Mimi and Roger broke up. And Roger and I, well, I don't think we are friends anymore. Something these past few months have changed in him. He has gotten obsessed with finding fame. He seems to want to try anything to get his name out there. So people will remember him, I guess. But does he want people to remember him for being a fool? I don't know, we just... we just don't connect anymore. I don't connect with anyone."
I shift my position so that I'm closer to Angel. I can just imagine what she would say. "Enough of the pity party Mark! You just have to live everyday to the fullest and with as much love as possible."
"Angel, I don't know if I'm capable of love anymore." I sit there again in silence. Wishing that Collins were here to give me some advice, or knock some sense into Roger. Longing for Angel to smile and just fill the room with happiness. For the millionth time, I curse the disease that took them away from me.
When I can't take the heat anymore, I head back home. A cool shower, since we have no hot water anyway, motivates me to go home quickly. When I get there, Roger is sitting on the table, legs crossed, his head in his hands.
"What's wrong?" He hasn't looked up, but it seems like he is crying.
"They dropped us." He mumbles into his hand.
"Huh?"
"They dropped us. The record label. Just like that, we're done." He finally looks up at me. "The band broke up. The other guys figured that we had our shot, and didn't make it. What's the sense anymore, right?"
"Roger, I'm sorry."
He slides off the table and starts walking towards me. His voice is monotone and his look serious. "They said we didn't have anything to make us stand out. That I was just another pretty boy front man."
"Roger..."
"Don't." He steps closer to me, forcing me to step backwards away from him. I can smell alcohol on his breath. "You had a chance to help us. To help me. The person you called your best friend. This was my dream and you took it away."
He has me backed against the wall. "No, Roger, I didn't. It has nothing to do with me."
"THE FUCK IT DOESN'T!" He slaps his hand violently around the wall, encasing me. "You just couldn't stand the thought of one of us making it. Or wait; maybe you were afraid that if you helped me, than you would make it. Then what would you have? You are so afraid of success..."
I try and duck around under his arm, but he grips onto me and pushes me back. "No, you're going to listen to me. Because once I leave this place, I'm never coming back."
"Roger..."
He slaps his hand against the wall again, causing me to flinch. "Best friends." He laughs. "What the hell does that mean anyway? You don't care about anyone but yourself. You sit on the sidelines and watch everyone else as life passes you by. You didn't even feel that I was important enough to tell me that you had a girlfriend."
I look up at him. "Yeah, I know. She called a few times. She is quite the talker."
"Why... why didn't you tell me?"
"No, why didn't you tell me?" He finally steps away. He walks over to the table and picks up a half empty bottle of Jack Daniels. He raises it towards me, as if he's toasting.
"You know you aren't supposed to drink when you are on the meds."
He laughs at me. Ok, maybe I shouldn't have said that. "I don't give a shit. Don't you get it? My dream is dead. I have nothing to live for."
Just then, Mimi walks in. "What is going on up here?" She looks around concerned and stops her gaze on Roger holding the bottle. "Oh."
"Oh look, Mimi Marquez! My one true love!" He is now slurring his speech and rocking back and forth. "One true love, yeah right. I loved April a million times more than you. In fact, I never even loved you."
She looks at me and shakes her head. "I'm leaving." She turns around, but he launches towards her and grabs her and kisses her, hard. She pushes him back. "Don't touch me!"
"No problem. And hey, don't leave. I will." He opens the door and turns around and looks at us, "Fuck you both." With that, he's out the door.
She and I just stare at each other silently.