Roger POV:
I've pretty much been staying in my room ever since Mark found me throwing up. Mimi, Collins, Maureen, and Joanne have stopped visiting so often, though they still call several times a day. Mark's been doing a lot better, he's almost back to his normal self. Not completely, but he's getting there.
Ever since Mark caught me a few days ago he's been watching every move I make. I know he's suspicious, and I guess I can't blame him, but it's really starting to get annoying. I don't say anything though, because I still feel bad about everything that's happened. But as long as I stay in my room he can't watch me. I mean, what's he gonna do, follow me every time I go in my room?
I go over to my shelf and start rearranging the pictures and books on top. A few days ago I took all the glass covers out of the picture frames but I check once more, just to be sure I've gotten them all.
Once I'm sure that there's absolutely no glass in sight I pick up the pile of books, consisting of mostly "teach yourself guitar" books or ones that I've gotten as gifts which I'll mostly likely never read, and sit on the floor, placing them in front of me. I glance at the calendar on my wall; it's Thursday. Every day I arrange them in a different. Thursday is by color, lightest to darkest.
As I start to rearrange the books again I notice that they're in a different order that I last left them. Yesterday was Wednesday so they should be in alphabetical order but…I take the top book off the pile: Learn to Play Guitar, and look at the book below it: Guitar music for La Boheme. What the hell? Last I checked "G" came before "L" in the alphabet. I check the next book: Everyone's Guide for AIDS. And "E" comes before both of those. "MARK!!"
He comes running into my room, looking worried. "What? What's wrong?"
"Why don't you tell me what's wrong! Why the hell are my books in a different order?" His face goes from surprised, to confused, to a mix between frightened and guilty.
"How would you know if your books are in a different order anyway, Roger?"
Damn him. "…I just do, okay? And that's not the point! Why were you in my room?"
"I wasn't-"
"Save your breath, Mark. Yesterday my books were organized, in alphabetical order and now…" I motion frantically to the pile of books still on the floor, "now they're a mess! And you were the only other person besides me that was here between yesterday and today, and I certainly didn't mess them up!" I start shaking at the realization that he messed up my entire order and way of doing things.
"Whoa, Rog, calm down! Relax, just breathe, okay?" He puts his hand on my shoulder, trying to calm my shaking body, but I pull away violently. He backs away slowly, putting his hand in front of him. "Calm down, Roger…Just calm down. I only wanted to borrow a book. I'm sorry…I had no idea it would upset you this much…"
He looks terrified and I immediately feel sorry for yelling. I try to calm down and control my tremors but it's not working very well. He seems to sense that I've calmed down slightly and approaches me very slowly. When I don't back away he guides me over to the bed and sits me down, putting his arms around me, trying to stop my twitching. After a few minutes of rubbing my back, I finally gain control of my body and relax a little in his arms.
"Rog, what just happened? Please, talk to me. Tell me what's wrong…"
Oh God, Mark, how I wish I could tell you. I wish I could tell you about all these little obsessions and how out of control everything's getting, how the mere thought of food nearly sends me into a panic attack…God Mark, I wish I could tell you so bad because I'm getting really scared, I don't know what's wrong with me. But I can't because you always put other people before yourself, especially me, and I know that if you knew the full extent of what's going on you would drop every one of your own problems and focus 100% on me. And that's not what you need to do right now.
So despite all the warnings going off in my head I just shrug. "It's nothing really, Mark. It's just been a really long day, I'm sorry to have upset you."
He looks at me long and hard for a full minute before responding. "Roger…" He sighs. "Alright, if you won't let me help you, at least start going to Life Support again. Talk to Paul, he could help you…"
I shake my head. I'm not about to tell a group of people I hardly know outside of Life Support that I'm going crazy and can't look at food without breaking into a sweat, or leave my room without checking everything about half a dozen times to make sure there's no glass around. "No, I'm alright. I just freaked out a little 'cause I thought you were going through all my stuff. You know how I hate that." I smile a little to lighten the mood.
I know he doesn't believe me but he doesn't say anything as he releases me and gets up. He's about to walk out the door when he turns around again. "You need to talk to someone, Rog. It's only going to get worse."
Mark POV:
I walk out of Roger's room wondering what the hell just happened in there. That was just scary, I've never seen him like that before. I wish he would let me help him for once instead of always trying to act so tough and macho. Since our talk the other night things have only gotten worse. And I'm scared to death because I don't know what to do.
He was right when he accused me of going through his stuff. I did, last night when he was "taking a shower." I was just so damn worried, I was looking for some clue…anything to let me know what's going on so I could help him. He's lost weight. Not a whole lot but he's noticeably thinner. And he's already so damn thin to begin with…
I thought he was maybe taking laxatives or something so I searched his room, looking for anything he might have had to hurt himself with. But I didn't find anything. Well, nothing dangerous anyway. But his room is suspiciously clean.
When I opened his closet I expected it to be filled half way to the top with bunched up clothes and other various things - ranging from old posters and cd's to homework he still hasn't gotten rid of from high school - like it usually is, but not only was it perfectly clean, the clothes on the hangers were actually arranged in color order!
This is scaring me so much because, since he won't tell me, I have no idea what's going on with him. At least when he was a junkie I knew what the problem was. But this…this is taking me to new heights of confusion.
Roger POV:
Mark is driving me absolutely crazy with his watching me all the time and following me everywhere I go. It reminds me of how he used to act when he found out about my heroine addiction. I hope he doesn't think I'm using again. I know he's suspicious but he hasn't said anything since that night two weeks ago when I freaked out on him about the books.
I hear him outside my door and pretend to be asleep. It's the same thing every morning: He comes into my room with a breakfast tray begging me to eat, I pretend to be asleep, he shakes me for a food five minutes or so, and then he finally gives up, leaving the food in my room, hoping I'll eat it anyway. Even though I never do and he knows that I don't.
This morning is a little different though. He comes into my room and doesn't even bother shaking me to try and wake me.
"Roger, get up. I know you're awake." I don't move.
"Roger, get up now, I'm warning you…"
Warning me? What the hell could he do to me? I don't have to wonder long though because suddenly I feel myself being drenched in very cold ice water. I jump up, shocked, and mad as hell.
"Mark!! What the hell?!"
He seems unfazed by my anger as he crosses his arms and smirks. "Good, you're awake." He puts the breakfast tray down in front of me. "Now eat."
My stomach feels like it's being turned inside out and I can hear my heart pounding in my chest as I realize there's no way I can escape this situation. I panic and start to beg. "No! Mark, please…please don't do this to me! Please, you can't…you don't understand!" His face softens slightly and I know I'm getting through. He sits down next to me.
"Then help me understand, Rog. Tell me what's going on. Admit that everything's not fine or I'll assume they are and you'll have to eat. If things really are as you say then eating breakfast shouldn't be a big deal at all."
Oh God, oh God, what do I do?? I try to calm myself down by telling myself that it's only one meal. I only have to do this once and then he'll believe me and back off. But even though a small part of me knows that's not true, I raise a spoonful of cereal to my lips anyway as icy tears roll down my cheeks.
Mark seems to sense how hard this is for me because he moves closer to me and takes my free hand is his, rubbing my back, and whispering words of encouragement to me. But his soft whispers are drowned out by the screaming inside my head and my heart pounding like a hammer in my chest.
It takes me over an hour to finish the whole thing and, much to my dismay, Mark stays by my side the entire time, trying to make this less terrifying (because he knows it is) but not succeeding very well.
Finally after the last torturous bite he congratulates me and tells me what a great job I did. It surprises me that Mark seems to know how horrifying this is and what a big deal it is just to make it through one meal. I don't even try to hide how I feel this time, I just sit there in my bed, letting my tears fall freely down my cheeks.
Mark POV:
"Are you ok, Rog?" He looks like he's about to pass out. This isn't the Roger I know. The Roger who tries to act so tough and macho all the time, pretending that he never gets scared when I know, really, that he's terrified.
As usual, he doesn't answer me but at least this time he's not trying to pretend that he's ok when obviously he's not. I hate myself for doing this to him, for putting him through this but, geez, all I did was make him eat breakfast!
He's getting so fuckin' skinny, he must have lost about twenty pounds in these past four weeks. He never eats anymore, never. But every time I try to talk to him about it he yells at me and tells me to mind my own business. I would say he's anorexic except that he doesn't seem to be concerned about his weight. Every morning I try to get him to eat but he always pretends to be asleep. I know the only reason he actually ate this morning was because he didn't want to tell me what's wrong.
I suddenly feel the weight in my arms relax and I notice that Roger's asleep. I lay him down gently, a sadness tugging at my throat because he's so light.
As I go to walk out of his room I turn around and look at the near emaciated figure looking half dead on his bed, and decide that this has grown too big for me to handle on my own. I walk out, quietly closing the door behind me, and pick up the phone to call Collins, Maureen, Joanne, and Mimi.
Roger POV:
As soon as I'm sure Mark is gone I sit up again in bed. Why did he have to do that? Damn it, he knows how hard this is for me! I know he knows, if he didn't he wouldn't have acted the way he did.
I try to stand up but am quickly pulled back down by a sharp pain in my stomach. Only this pain isn't from hunger, it's the pain from having a decent amount of food in my stomach for the first time in weeks.
At this realization I start shaking again, my body trembling as the guilt and panic quickly take over my stomach. I know I can't throw up, even if I tried, which is impossible since my trembling body is paralyzed with guilt and fear. So instead of even attempting to move off my hard mattress, I give in to the sickening blackness that is enveloping my body quickly.
Mark POV:
It's a half hour later and me, Mimi, and Collins are sitting in the living room, waiting for Maureen and Joanne to arrive. We sit pretty much in silence for a while, all of us sensing the tension in the room. Finally Mimi breaks the silence.
"How's Roger doing?"
Collins looks surprised. "Did you two break up again?"
She shakes her head, her long curls nearly hitting me in the face. "No…well, I don't think so. I just haven't seen him in a while, he never visits anymore or returns my phone calls…"
I try to comfort her and am about to say something when the door bursts open and Maureen and Joanne enter, bickering as usual. They stop when they notice me and Mimi sitting solemnly on the couch, and Collins looking very confused.
Maureen rushes over to me. "Pookie, what's wrong?"
Joanne joins her and she, Maureen, Mimi, and Collins all look at me anxiously, wondering what's going on and why they've all been called over here.
Joanne speaks first. "Mark, what's going on?"
I clear my throat, really to keep myself from crying more than anything else. "Um…I'm really worried about Roger. I just…he's acting so weird and I have no idea what's going on with him."
Collins looks worried. "How is he acting weird?"
I take a deep breath, not sure if I'm doing the right thing by telling everyone. Roger would kill me if he found out. But then the thought that he might kill himself first flashes through my mind and I decide I'm doing the right thing. "He doesn't eat…maybe like, a cracker a day at the most. Today was the first time in three weeks that he's eaten a real meal and that was only because I made him. And God, you should have seen his face…he looked like he was about to have a heart attack. He cried throughout the whole thing."
Maureen doesn't look convinced. "I don't know, Mark…maybe he's just depressed. I mean, you know how Roger gets when he's depressed. Maybe it's just a stage and he'll be fine in a few weeks."
I shake my head. "No, that's not all of it." I stop, taking a deep breath. "A few weeks ago I caught him throwing up in the bathroom. I made him promise he'd stop but he hasn't. I know that for a fact." The tears that have been forming in Mimi's eyes for the past ten minutes spill down her cheeks as Collins pulls her closer to him. I know I shouldn't go on, I've already upset them so much, but… "And his room is so…so clean. Not even clean, perfect! His clothes are all arranged in color order, his books are alphabetized, and there's no glass in his room whatsoever. I mean, he even went as far as to taking all the glass covers out of his picture frames. He never leaves the loft anymore, he spends all his time in his room, cleaning I'm sure. It's really scary. And it's just been getting worse and worse."
Mimi nods, her tears still flowing freely. "It's true. He used to come see me every day and I haven't seen him in weeks. He never returns any of my calls either."
Everyone remains silent for a moment, probably too shocked to respond. But Collins finally says something.
"Have you tried talking to him, Mark?"
"Yeah. All the time, but he either doesn't respond or he tells me to mind my own business."
I hear a sort of sob sound coming from Maureen and it is then that I notice her tears. "What are we gonna do, Pookie?"
I shake my head. "I have no idea, I've tried everything. That's why I called all of you here. I'm afraid if I waited any longer we might lose him."
Joanne speaks up. "How do you know he's still throwing up, Mark?"
I wipe my own tears away. "It's just the way he looks after he's eaten something. It's like he's being tortured, he looks…terrified. And then he always goes in the bathroom and takes these long 'showers.' But I know he's not really showering because half the time I can hear him throwing up. And I can't stop him either. I can't be with him every time after he eats something to stop him from throwing up. Most of the time he waits until I leave the loft anyway, and then eats so he can get away with it."
Joanne speaks again. "Okay, here's what we're going to do. Mark, you're only one person, you can't be expected to save Roger by yourself. But if all of us were to stay here, say for a week, I'm sure we can prevent Roger from doing any more harm to himself." Everyone nods, agreeing that that sounds like a good plan for now.
Mimi, who has been silent this whole time says, "I can tell Roger there's not enough sleeping space for all of us out here so I need to stay in his room. That way I can keep track of what he's doing in there, you know, make sure he doesn't go out of control with his cleaning and stuff. Then there'd be someone to watch him at all times."
Collins nods. "That's a good idea, Mimi. We have to make sure he's never alone, except for when he's in the bathroom, and only then only for short periods of time. Never let him go in the bathroom for at least an hour after he's eaten something."
I nod. "And I'll make sure he eats. I'll help him with that."
We all hug and Maureen, Joanne, and Collins leave, promising to be back in a half hour. Mimi stays with me since she only lives downstairs and she can bring up the few things she needs later. Right now, she says, she just wants to see Roger.
Mimi POV:
I knock once on Roger's door but don't really expect an answer since Mark told me he was asleep. So I open the door quietly, my breath catching in my throat when I see Roger for the first time in three weeks. I cover my mouth with my hand and try my hardest not to cry again. But I can't help it as I stare at Roger, sprawled out on his bed, his breathing so shallow that I think at first he might be dead. Oh God, Mark wasn't exaggerating at all, he must weigh less than me now! I can see every one of his ribs through his thin shirt as he inhales ever so slightly.
I run over to him and start shaking him, needing the assurance that he actually is still alive. He opens his eyes slightly and then more, wide awake now, as he realizes that it's me instead of Mark standing over his bed.
I start crying again, I can't help it, and I crawl into bed next to him, throwing my arms around him and sobbing into his frail chest.
He looks shocked, and then worried, as he hugs me tightly and tries to comfort me, obviously not understanding why I'm so upset.
"Mimi...what's wrong? What happened?" He gathers me up close to his chest and starts rocking me gently until I calm down enough to respond.
"Oh God, Roger...don't you...can't you see?"
His confused expression confirms that, no, he doesn't see what's so obvious to everyone else. I don't want to start a fight with him, I've missed him so much and just want to be with him, so I decide not to tell him what has me and everyone else so upset. "Just...just hold me okay?" I whisper.
He complies and we sit there, cuddled together, for what seems like the first time in ages.
Roger POV:
I strove Mimi's hair as she cries silently, and after a long while she finally relaxes and I realize she's asleep.
I can't remember the last time I've seen her this upset, something must really be wrong. I lay her down gently on my bed and cover her with the thin blanket, trying to make her as comfortable as I can on my hard mattress, and walk out the door to see if Mark knows what's wrong with Mimi.
"Mark-" I stop short when I see Collins, Maureen, Joanne, and Mark all sitting on the couch talking quietly. They immediately stop speaking when they notice me. Everyone except Mark stares at me with wide eyes and I can literally see their mouths hanging open. "What??"
Maureen looks away and starts crying as Joanne hugs her, obviously trying not to cry herself.
"What's with everyone? Will someone please tell me what's going on here??" I'm starting to get really worried. What if something happened?
Mark, who has had his head down this whole time finally looks up. "You, Rog."
"Huh?" I'm really confused now.
"Roger, do you know what you look like?" He gets up and leads me to the full length mirror. I stare at my reflection, trying to see what has everyone so upset. I don't get it, I look the same as I always do, except maybe a little wet from Mimi's tears.'
I turn to Mark, confused. "What do you mean?"
He shakes his head sadly and stares at the floor again. "Nothing, Rog, never mind. Um...Mimi, Maureen, Joanne, and Collins are going to be staying here for a few days. I hope that's okay with you." I shrug. I don't care, as long as they stay out of my business.
"Yeah, sure, whatever." I have the impulse to organize my closet and drawers again but then I remember that Mimi's in my room. So I go into the kitchen instead and start taking things out of the refrigerator. The thing's a mess, it's been bugging me for weeks.
Mark POV:
I can't believe Roger doesn't notice the drastic change in his appearance. I wonder if he really doesn't or he's just trying to throw us off. Maureen, Joanne, and Collins all look at me and I know we're thinking the same thing: Time for plan A.
I walk over to Roger who's sitting in front of the refrigerator, organizing the food shelf by shelf by its category.
"Hungry?"
He nearly drops the eggs he's holding. "No, I just had a huge breakfast, remember?" He glares at me. I know he's still mad about that. Well, he's about to get furious...
I sigh. "First of all, Roger, that wasn't a huge breakfast, it was a bowl of cereal. And second, you didn't just have it. It's been four hours since you last ate, you must be starving."
His face gets that panicky look I know all too well by now and his eyes dart around the room, probably looking for some way to escape. "No, I-"
"You're eating, even if it means tying you up and force feeding you."
He looks so terrified that I think he might be about to cry. God, I can't stand seeing him like this! His eating isn't only torture for him. I take him aside and lower my voice, not wanting to make him uncomfortable in front of Maureen, Joanne, and Collins.
"Look, I know this is hard for you. You don't have to eat in front of everyone, just as long as you do eat."
His face brightens considerably. "Okay, I'll eat alone..."
I shake my head. "No. Someone has to be there to make sure you actually do eat."
His face clouds over and he lets himself cry, obviously not trying to pretend he's fine anymore.
"Mark, please, please don't do this to me! Come on, breakfast was enough! You can't do this, you can't Mark! Please..." His voice trails off and he looks like a little kid, frightened and scared as he wipes his tears with the back of his hand, begging to be held. I can't believe I'm the one doing this to him.
"I swear, Mark, just let me build up to this slowly, okay? It's just too fast...breakfast was enough...I swear, just leave me alone today and tomorrow I'll start eating again, okay? I swear!"
I can feel myself breaking down but I know I have to be tough with him. I can't let him manipulate me.
Just one more fix, I swear, that's all I need...Just once more and then I'll stop...
No, it's gone too far already. The longer it goes...the longer he puts it off, the wore it's gonna get.
I shake my head firmly, trying to look strong, but on the inside I'm trembling. I speak gently but firmly. "No Rog, it has to be today...now."
He grabs a carrot stick from his pile on the floor and chews it slowly. "There. Happy now?"
"No way, Rog."
He glares at me but when he
sees I'm not backing down he stands up, throwing the apples he was holding at
me, and starts going through cabinets, muttering something I can't quite hear,
but I can make out my name and a few angry curse words.
Finally he sits at the table with half of a left over sandwich and a cup of coffee. Not exactly a sufficient meal but...I'll give him a break this time. He sits there for a while, just staring at the food, every now and then shifting his eyes neurotically from Collins to Maureen to Joanne, who are still in the living room watching all of this.
After about ten minutes of this I decide maybe it would be a better idea if he did this alone...well, almost alone. "Roger, do you want to go in my room?"
He moves his head slightly and I interpret that as a "yes" so I pick up his lunch, bringing it with me into my room, Roger trudging slowly behind me. As I reach the doorway I nod slightly to Maureen who nods in return and quickly dashes into the bathroom, turning on the water faucets.
Roger plops down on my floor, sitting with his hands covering his face for a few seconds before finally facing his lunch again. I notice that his hands are trembling as he picks up the sandwich and takes a miniscule bite. He swallows like it's poison and tears weave down his cheeks. He raises the sandwich again but drops it as he cries silently to himself.
I slide closer to him and help him calm down enough to eat and help him through the process which takes over an hour to complete. He's shaking and crying but he ate. And I'm gonna make sure the food stays in his stomach this time. I hold him for a few minutes, trying to calm him down, and then head out of my room to make sure Maureen is still in the bathroom. I hear the water running so I'm assuming she is. I turn to Collins.
"Has she been in there this whole time?"
"Sort of. She comes out every other minute though. What's taking you guys so long? He only took half a sandwich!"
I shrug. "I know. It's his new
thing, he takes a bite, like every five minutes and that's on a good day. But
he's done now."
As if on cue, Maureen storms
out of the bathroom, looking cranky. "Mark! What the hell? I've been in
there for an hour already!"
"I know, I'm really sorry. He just finished so it'll only be another hour..."
She shakes her head. "Uh uh, no way. I've been in there long enough!"
Joanne jumps up from the couch and walks over to me. "Don't worry Mark, I'll take over from here."
"Thanks, Joanne." I smile and run back to Roger, just in time to see him pour the remainder of his coffee on himself. I walk in and pretend I didn't just see that.
He looks up, startled for a split second, but then his face turns to fake angry. "The fucking coffee spilled!"
I decide to go along with his little charade. "Yeah, I can see that."
He storms out of my room and is about to walk into the bathroom when he notices the water running. "Who's in there?"
"Joanne. She's taking a shower."
He starts getting desperate. "Since when does she take showers in our apartment?"
"I told you, Rog. She, Maureen, Collins, and Mimi are going to be staying here for a while."
He gestures to his wet, coffee-stained clothes. "Well what the hell am I supposed to do then??"
I shrug. "Maybe next time you could not pour it all over yourself."
Roger POV:
I stare at him in shock. I had no idea he knew about that. I'm surprised and then angry at how much he seems to know about my problem. Aren't I allowed to have any secrets anymore? I hate how he's always digging into my business like this!
He's doing this on purpose, I know he sent Joanne to the bathroom to keep me from going in. Damn it, he knows how hard this is for me! He knows and yet he's still trying to torture me! My head starts spinning, my body is paralyzed with pain and terror. Mark is doing this to me on purpose, he's torturing me on purpose, and I'm going to kill him for it.
"Mark, you son of a bitch, I can't believe you! Why the hell are you doing this to me? Why?! I'm not three anymore! I'm fucking twenty-eight years old, I don't have to be spoon fed and locked out of my own bathroom! Stop treating me like I'm a little kid!"
"I wouldn't have to 'spoon feed' you if you ate by yourself. So until you do, you can expect to be treated like a little kid until you can take care of yourself."
"I do eat, I do take care of myself!"
"Roger, you do not eat. Today was the first time you've eaten a real meal in over three weeks, and that was only because I made you, I practically had to shove it down your throat! You're obviously incapable of eating normally right now, you're emaciated as it is and I'm not going to let you starve yourself to death. You're sick, Rog, the only reason I'm...we're doing this is because we care about you and don't want to lose you."
"You bastard, you fucking bastard!" I realize I'm not getting anywhere with him so instead of wasting time arguing over this, I turn around and make a run for the door, hoping that maybe if I can't throw up here, at least I can do it somewhere else.
But just as I'm about to reach the door I feel Collins' strong arms around me, constricting my arms so that I can't move. I try to struggle free but can't. Since when is Collins stronger than me?
Then Maureen jumps in front of the door, blocking it so that even if Collins wasn't holding me down, I still wouldn't be able to make it outside. So defeated, I start crying and feel guilt and fear and terror wash over my entire body with the satisfaction and pain I now feel in my stomach. I'm shaking now, and not just from my sobs. Collins releases me and the three of them form a circle around me, making escape impossible.
I try to shove my way through the small space between Maureen and Collins but Mark jumps forward, grabbing me again, but not nearly as hard or desperate as Collins had.
"It'll be over soon, Rog...you'll be okay."
I try to struggle away from him but am surprised to discover how strong Mark has grown these past few weeks.
I realize that the only way to get them off my back will be to fake cooperation so I stop struggling and gently step away from Mark. I'll play by their rules for now, despite the terror that I know will follow. I'll cooperate for now and eventually they'll back off. Then I'll go back to my old routine and they'll never know, and I'll be able to live again without the constant fear and panic lurking in the pit of my stomach...
Mark POV:
I knock on Roger's door and walk in without waiting for a reply, knowing that him and Mimi are probably still asleep. I'm surprised to find Roger wide awake in bed, seemingly waiting for me to come in with breakfast, as I do every morning. I look around his room and don't see Mimi.
"Good morning." I put his breakfast down in front of him. "Where's Mimi?"
"She just left for work." He picks up the plastic fork and starts eating his eggs without a fuss.
Maureen, Joanne, Mimi, and Collins have been here for two weeks already, and during their stay Roger seems to have gotten a lot better. He eats almost normally now, although still much too slow for my liking, usually without making a fuss and he's gained a lot of his weight back. But he still looks terrified when he eats, though he tries to hide it, and he has become much more depressed and withdrawn. I know it's because of the extra food in his stomach and I wish there was something I could do to help him with that, but he still won't talk to me about it I know it haunts him though. Twice this past week I've woken up in the middle of the night to him sobbing in the next room, and Mimi tells me he cries almost every night now but never lets her help him. But...the goal was to get him out of immediate danger, and that's what we did, so we decided that everyone will be going back to their own homes today.
I watch Roger eat and pretend not to notice the pained expression on his face. When he's done he pushes the tray away violently and crosses his arms, trying to look angry instead of scared, which is what I know he's really feeling. I decide to say something that I know will cheer him up.
"Hey, guess what Rog?" He doesn't answer but I go on anyway. "Everyone's gonna be going home today." He seems to brighten considerably.
"You mean it'll just be me and you again? I get to have my room back?"
I have to laugh at how excited he is to see all his friends and girlfriend leave. I nod. "Yup. Just as long as you stay at a healthy weight." He scowls. "I mean it. You're really not fat at all, Rog, I don't see why you're so worried about it." I actually don't think it's about weight at all but I said it anyway to see what his reaction would be, and with the hope that maybe he'd tell me what it is about.
He looks surprised for a second. "I know I'm not fat. I never thought I was. And anyway, Mark, I'm not stupid and I know you're not either. You know it's not about that, and I already told you, I'm not saying anything more than that. Besides, it's over anyway. I eat three meals a day, I don't know why you're still dwelling on this."
"Just because you eat doesn't mean that it's still not a problem..."
"Mark, God, just leave it alone already! I eat, my room's a mess, you got what you want so just leave me alone!"
I look around his room and wonder what "mess" he's talking about. Mimi's been staying in here pretty much for the whole time she was here, except to go to work, so he hasn't been obsessive about cleaning ...but it's still spotless and it worries me knowing that he still thinks it's a mess. But I decide to let the comment slip anyway as I pat him on the back and pick up the remains of his breakfast.
"You've done a great job, Rog. I just want to make sure you keep doing good."
Roger POV:
After everyone has packed their stuff and left, I look around the empty loft and feel relieved. Finally I can live my life again without terror digging into me every second of the day.
Mark went out filming and I know he's probably going to send someone over to make sure I eat lunch. I set to work opening packages of food, dropping crumbs all over, and then hiding it in my room so Mark will notice that food's missing. I dirty a few plates and a glass and then sit down at the table, placing the dirty dishes in front of me, and wait for someone to come in, demanding that I eat lunch.
After about ten minutes or so of waiting, there is a knock on the door and I shove a cracker (my meal for the day) in my mouth, opening the door with my mouth full. Collins walks in, looking surprised to find me actually eating something without being forced to.
"Uh...I just stopped by to make sure you eat lunch..." He surveys the crumbs and dirty dishes on the table and raises an eyebrow.
I swallow the cracker. "I just did. Do you want me to make you something? A sandwich, salad?"
"No thanks, I'm good...I think I'll hang out for a while though."
I know he's staying to make sure I don't throw up. And I won't. What he doesn't know is that there isn't anything in my stomach to throw up in the first place. I have to fight the urge to laugh as I plop down on the couch next to him, chatting and watching tv for the next half hour until Mark comes back.
I hear the door open behind me and see Mark walk in, Collins getting up to talk to him in private. I see Collins gesture to the table where the dishes still are, and Mark raise an eyebrow suspiciously. He says something else and Collins shrugs, as he grabs his coat and then turns towards me again. "See ya, Roger." And he walks out the door.
I hear Mark come up behind me.
"Roger?"
I turn around, swallowing the lump in my throat. "Hey Mark..."
"Collins told me you ate lunch?" I can tell from his voice that he doesn't believe that.
I nod, trying not to act too suspicious. "Yeah, I had some leftover pizza."
"Okaaaay...maybe you should have something else..."
"Mark, I swear, I really did eat it! You can even check in the fridge."
He does, starting on the shelf I organized for pasta, and then checking every other corner of it. Finally, he seems satisfied and doesn't push the issue anymore.
****2 DAYS LATER****
Roger POV:
Now that Mimi's finally gone I've been spending a lot of time in my room, trying to clean and get things organized again. My stomach growls loudly and I put my hand to it, praying that Mark didn't hear, but then laugh at myself for being so paranoid.
I go back to my cd collection, reorganizing them and trying to group all 115 of them by genre. I stare at the title of the one I'm holding in my hand but can't make out what it says because it has gone blurry all of a sudden. I feel a little dizzy but figure it's from lack of nutrients since I've been throwing up everything Mark tries to shove down my throat. Maybe I should start taking a vitamin or something.
My throat has been hurting more than usual and I'm getting a little worried about it since I haven't exactly been singing as well as I used to. Adam even commented on it last week, saying my voice sounded hoarse and scratchy. I keep promising I'll give myself a rest and stop throwing up to give my throat a chance to recuperate but I can't since Mark now insists on watching every bite that goes into my mouth. And that's a lot so, of course, I have to be sure that it all goes out of my mouth also.
I go back to the cd's but all of a sudden the room starts spinning and a dizzying blackness begins to cloud over my mind as I feel my body hit the floor with a dull thud before everything goes black...
Mark POV:
After that whole lunch incident with Collins I decided it would be best if I stay here and see for myself that Roger eats. God, I hope he does because I can already tell that he's losing weight again. It's only been two days since everyone left but he's so thin already that every pound really makes a difference.
I go over to his room and knock on the door, carrying his lunch. "Roger?" There's no reply and I try again, louder this time. He still doesn't answer so I figure he must have fallen asleep or something so I walk in, only to find him lying, face down, on the floor...
Roger
POV:
Somewhere in the back of my
mind I can hear someone calling my name very softly. This same voice now sounds
desperate, as it yells for me to wake up. I try to open my eyelids but it's
like they're made out of lead, as does every other part of my body. I finally
succeed in opening one halfway and am now able to place the voice with a name.
Mark. I open my eyes all the way but the bright light that rushes in is
blinding and I quickly shut them again.
"Roger? Come on, please open your eyes..."
I feel him shaking me and as much as I would love to keep floating in this blackness I crack my eyes open slowly, letting them get readjusted to the light again.
I feel something soft under me. Well, not soft exactly but softer than I remember my floor to be. I also feel my head propped up against something soft and I realize I'm lying on my bed. How did I get on my bed?
My mind takes in the image of Mark, standing over me looking anxious and frightened, and it is then that my brain is able to perceive what happened. Oh shit.
"Oh my God, Roger, you nearly scared me half to death! What the hell happened?"
"Mmm..." I try to talk but can't exactly get my voice to work.
"Never mind, don't talk if you don't have the energy, I'm sorry for yelling..." He touches my shoulder sadly and then leaves, promising to bring back some water.
When he returns, I sip the liquid slowly, putting off talking for as long as possible.
"Rog?" I put the glass down and sigh, knowing I'll have to explain sooner or later. "Roger, you haven't been eating have you?"
I start getting angry again. "Yes I have, you know I have since you monitor everything that goes in my mouth."
He sighs. "Okay, let me rephrase that. You haven't been digesting have you?"
Damn him. "If you're implying that I'm still throwing up, I'm not. I know better than that, I can't afford to ruin my voice now, right before we're about to get a record deal." I feel bad for lying to him like this, and even worse as the reality of my words hit me, but that doesn't even compare to how bad it feels keeping food in my stomach so I don't take it back. And it's a good thing too because he looks like he believes me. "I was just really exhausted, I haven't been sleeping well and...yeah...I got kind of dizzy and that's it."
"Rog, you can't pass out from lack of sleep. Though you can pass out from lack of food."
"Please Mark, just leave me alone now. I'm so exhausted, I just want to sleep, okay?" My voice must have just been desperate enough because he nods slowly, and hesitantly leaves my room.
Mark POV:
I don't know what to do. I know he's lying but I have no arguement, nothing to prove my case. It's just little things, and the burning ache in the pit of my stomach that let me know something's wrong.
He's losing weight, but I can't tell how much or if he's in danger because he always wears layers now. He never leaves the loft anymore, let alone his room, and I haven't heard him play his guitar since he passed out last week.
Every time he drops a pound or skips a meal I'm reminded that this is all my fault. If only I hadn't been so mean to him, if only I hadn't not eaten for those three days...my mind is full of "if only's" that could have saved Roger from this pain.
Everyone is amazed at how fast I bounced back from my AIDS depression. With everyone else it took almost a year and with me it only lasted a few weeks. But that's only because I've been so focused on Roger that I haven't even had time to think about my own problems. Roger always accuses me of putting other people before myself, and this is no exception, but I think in this case I have a right to put him first. If I don't, he'll die. It's as simple as that.
I keep thinking about what he told me right after he passed out last week. About how he didn't throw up anymore because he needed to sing for his band. But he hasn't been going to rehersal for a while now. He never even leaves the loft. I'm starting to wonder why he never goes to rehersal anymore so I knock on his door, deciding it's time to confront him about this.
Roger POV:
I put the down the clothes I was folding when I hear Mark outside my door. I look at my watch. It's 11:30, too early for lunch, so I get up and let him in, hoping this isn't one of his tricks. He walks in and, thank God, he doesn't have any food with him.
"Hey, Rog." He looks around my room, his eyes settling on my guitar in the corner with cobwebs forming around it. Uh oh. I have a feeling what this lecture will be about.
"How come you never play your guitar or go to rehersal anymore?"
I knew it. I shrug, trying to think of an excuse. "Uh...the band broke up." He looks at me suspiciously and I know he doesn't believe me. And he shouldn't. Because in reality, I had to quit because my damaged vocal chords couldn't take the strain of singing anymore.