Disclaimer: They don't belong to me. Duh. And this is another long winded crappy chapter in which nothing much happens. But the next chapter will have a few kicks, I *promise*... and uh, gee, I wonder what April is hiding from Mark? Hmmm...
Chapter 4- Promises, promises
"He's using again."
Mark looked up at man sitting across from him.
"And this time, it's worse."
Collins frowned and shook his head.
"Are you sure?" he asked quietly. His warm liquid eyes poured sympathy into Mark's soul and Mark felt the heavy weight that had been on his heart lift momentarily. He had missed the comforting presence of his old friend, the stability of his love and friendship had been gone too long and now Mark clung to the desperate hope that Collins could fix everything that was broken in their lives.
Roger.
April.
Mark.
Mark nodded and stared down at the cup of steaming hot tea on the table in front of him.
"I'm sure."
The two men sat silently in their booth at the Life Cafe, thinking.
More than a week had passed since Mark made the fateful call to Collins, begging him to come home. Because it was nearly Christmas, Collins had had trouble finding a flight back and Mark had spent the days waiting for his friend in tense anticipation.
Outside, the light winter snow fell upon the streets of New York, coating it in a pretty white blanket that belied the dirt and filth that lay beneath it. Mark's camera lay next to his hand, cold and unused for the past week. He couldn't find it in his heart to even raise the camera up to his eye but he took it with him wherever he went, as if it were a security blanket.
"It's ten times worse." Mark said softly, finally breaking the silence. "It doesn't even seem like he's Roger anymore. It's like he's... possessed. He's like a vampire. He only comes out at night and sleeps during the day. He's lost so much weight and.. and everytime I try to talk to him, he ends up screaming at me..."
Mark's voice began to grow louder as he grew agitated.
"I can see the track marks on him from across the room, Collins. How sick am I? That I notice his fucking track marks? That I try to keep count of them to make sure that..."
A few customers nearby stopped talking to each other and raised their eyes towards their booth.
Mark blinked back his tears and Collins leaned across the table and placed his large, comforting hand on his shoulder.
"Mark, you're not alone in this, okay?" Collins said soothingly. "I'm here for you. We're all here for you and we'll all help Roger though this. I promise."
Mark shook his head and curled his hands up into tight fists.
"No, that's not true." he said, pushing down the next sob that threatened to explode out of him. "Benny's gone God knows where and Maureen... she doesn't care about Roger. Not really. She moved out two months ago to get away from me and him."
Tears slid down his cheeks as he lowered his head.
"And April.. God, Collins, April just... It's killing her. Everyday she dies just a little bit more and... She's actually there when he..."
"Who's April?" Collins asked.
Mark looked up and frowned.
And then he exhaled loudly.
"That's right, you don't know about April." he said in a shaky voice. "April is Roger's girlfriend. They've been together since May of this year. She practically lives with us now."
"Is she an addict too?" Collins asked.
Mark shook his head vigorously.
"No." he said firmly. "April's not like that. She's... She just wouldn't do that."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes" Mark said. He grabbed the hot cup in front of him with his cold hands for warmth. "April. God. I don't know why she just doesn't leave... Sometimes I wish she would even though I'd... She doesn't deserve this, this life."
Collins stared at him.
"Neither do you, Mark." he said quietly. "You do know that, don't you?"
Mark lowered his head.
"Mark?"
"I don't know what I deserve anymore." Mark said, staring down at his hands. "Maybe this is what I get for feeling... I don't know. Maybe the people I love are being punished for something I did. I've already lost Maureen- it's just a matter of time before she breaks up with me. I'm losing Roger and... April... I never even... I don't know, Collins. I don't know what to do."
He looked up at Collins and shrugged helplessly.
"Please... tell me what to do to fix this." he begged suddenly. "I'll do anything. Tell me what to do to make Roger quit for good. Tell me what to do because I don't know anything anymore. Please, Collins?"
Collins shook his head sadly.
"Mark, I'm not God." he said gently. "I can't make miracles happen. But I can try to help."
Mark nodded, blinking back the tears that had returned to his eyes.
"I should have come back sooner." Collins said, more to himself than to Mark. "I should have never left New York at all."
"I should have called you sooner."
"Why didn't you? You know I would have come as soon as I knew.."
"Because..."
Mark shrugged and wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. He took a deep breath and exhaled it slowly.
"Because you have enough to worry about yourself. I didn't want to make your life worse by telling you." he said finally. "And this isn't your fault."
"It's not yours either." Collins said. "Mark? Look at me. You have to believe that."
Mark raised his eyes and shrugged.
"Does it matter what I believe?" Mark asked dully. "I have to help him, Collins. That's all that matters."
Collins leaned forward and stared at Mark.
"Then we'll help him. All of us."
Two hours later Mark was back at the loft, sitting cross legged on the table with the phone to his ear.
Come on, Maureen, pick up, he thought, feeling his heart racing in his chest.
It had been two weeks since he'd seen or heard from her and he knew that their time together was basically at an end. Whatever facade she put on when she saw him wasn't enough to convince Mark anymore. Their relationship was working on borrowed time.
Mark knew it.
But he had other things, other people, to worry about.
Still.... that didn't make it hurt any less.
"Hi, you've reached Maureen Johnson's residence...."
Mark cursed but waited patiently for the beep of the answering machine. This was important.
When it finally came, Mark closed his eyes and spoke into the phone.
"Hey Maureen... it's Mark." he said. "I know you probably don't want to hear from me but it's really important that you call me back. Collins is back in town and he..."
"Hello?" Maureen sounded breathless on the other line. Mark frowned.
"Maureen? I thought you weren't home."
"Mark! Baby, I was in the shower. Thank God I made it out here in time." she said with a carefree laugh.
"Collins is back in town? That's great! Let's have lunch with him tomorrow and catch..."
"Maureen, he came back for Roger." Mark said. "I called him and told him what was happening."
"Oh?"
"Yeah."
"What'd he say?"
"He said... well, he wants us to do an intervention for Roger. Try to convince him to get into rehab. I want you to be there because...."
Maureen sighed. "Christ Mark, you know Roger's never done anything anyone's told him to do...."
"That doesn't mean we shouldn't try to help him....."
"...Mark, sweetie, just move out and let April handle her own shit. This is her problem now, not yours..."
"He's my bestfriend..."
"And what's he ever done for you, Mark? I mean, so he's beaten up a few guys because they made fun of you back in high school. Big fucking deal. You're both adults now and whatever consequences Roger has to face is his own fault."
"God, Maureen, how selfish can you be?" Mark said, feeling his temper rise. "Roger was the one who convinced Benny to let you stay with us when you got kicked out of your house. He put up with your crap even though he could've just kicked you out..."
"He didn't do it because he was a nice guy, he did it because you asked him to!"
"Exactly!" Mark cried out. "Because I was his bestfriend and he knew how important it was to me for you to stay. I'm not going to turn my back on him now when he needs me the most and if you don't want to help him then fine. I should have never asked you."
"Dammit, Mark! Don't play this guilt bullshit with me!" Maureen screamed.
Mark closed his eyes. He softly exhaled the breath he had been holding unconsciously and forced himself to breathe.
"You're right. I'm sorry." he said quietly. "I'm sorry, Maureen. I...I'll call you back later."
"No, wait, Mark." She sounded contrite and sad. "I'm sorry too. I know how much you love him and... I just don't want to see you get hurt if he doesn't quit using. I don't want you to feel like it's your fault if things don't get better. You're a good person. A good friend. More than Roger deserves."
Mark pressed his hands to his eyes as if he were trying to physically push back the tears that had gathered there.
"I care about you, Mark. I really do. And.. if it really means that much to you, then I'll go. Just tell me when."
"Thanks, Maureen." he said quietly.
"Mark, I do care about you. You know that, right?" she said after awhile. "It's just that... well, I've been busy lately and I promise you, when things settle down, things between us will be better, okay Pookie?"
"I know."
"Good." she said, sounding happy again. "Call me when everything's set. I'll come."
"Okay."
"I love you."
She hung up before he could respond.
Mark put the phone back down on the receiver and stared at it.
God, when did things get so complicated? he thought.
When Roger started using again.
No.
Even before that.
Mark picked up his camera and stared at the black, gaping hole of the lens. A chaotic haze of contradicting emotions filled his mind as he stared down into the black depths of his camera. He flicked it on with one finger and held it up to his face.
"Roger's sick." he said. "And I have to help him. It's that simple."
He sighed and then shook his head.
"No, I'm lying. It's not that simple. Who am I trying to help, really? Be honest with yourself, Mark. Who is it I'm really trying to save here? Roger? Myself? Or is it her? April. And it's not like she'll come running to me when he gets better because she loves him. God, she loves him and whatever he does to himself, he does to her. And whatever she feels, I feel. And this whole thing with Maureen... it's only a matter of time before she cuts me loose. I used to worship the ground she walked on and now I... I don't know what I'm trying to say anymore."
He lowered his camera and then closed his eyes. After a minutes, he opened them again and raised the camera back up to his face.
"It's a sad fucking triangle I've gotten myself into. Sometimes I wonder if things would have been different if Roger had never met.... or if I had met her first...."
He shook his head again
"The sick truth is this- he's my bestfriend and he needs my help. That should be the only thing that's pushing me right now but it's not. It's just... not."
Suddenly Mark heard a loud thump outside the loft door.
He looked up in time to see the door swing open and April stumbling through the doorway. She was horribly pale and her eyes were blank and glassy. She had a strange dazed look on her face.
Mark put his camera down and rushed towards her.
She looked as if she were going to pass out.
"Oh my God, April!" he exclaimed. He grabbed her waist and she fell against him heavily, as if she had no more strength to keep herself upright. He half pulled, half carried her to the couch and set her down. He kneeled down in front of her and grabbed her ice cold hands, rubbing them between his palms to warm them up.
"April, what happened?" he asked. "Did you walk through the snow without a coat? Jesus Christ, April, you're freezing. What happened?"
She opened her mouth to talk but only a small, stifled whimper came out. She pulled her hands back from Mark and covered her face. Mark looked up at her, feeling powerless and confused. His eyes traveled down from her brown hair which was getting damp from melting snowflakes, to her hands and then to her bag which lay half open next to her.
Sticking out of the front pocket was a white peice of paper. Mark narrowed his eyes and tried to read the header.
... Pharmacy prescription...results for Dylan, April...positi...
"April, what's that?" he asked softly, reaching for it. "Are you sick?"
April raised her head and then moved back violently, pushing Mark's hand away from her bag.
"God, Mark, don't touch that!" she cried out. Mark stared at her as she stuffed the peice of paper further into her bag. "That's none of your business!"
"I..I'm sorry." Mark stuttered. He looked up at her face. "April, what happened?"
She opened her mouth and then closed it again, looking around the loft like a lost child.
"Where's Roger?" she asked in a small voice.
"I don't know, April." Mark said as she searched the room with her frantic gaze. "You would know better than me."
"I have to talk to him."
"About what?" Mark asked.
April's eyes finally settled on Mark's face. A look of pure misery swept across her face and she lowered her head.
"Nothing." she said quietly.
"April, you can tell me anything, you know that." Mark said earnestly.
"I know, Mark." she said in a voice that was barely above a whisper. She stared at her hands. "But this time... this is just between Roger and me."
Though he was hurt, Mark nodded. "I understand."
Her head jerked up and she stared into his eyes.
"No you don't, Mark." she said bitterly. "You don't understand. Roger has... he... I..."
She hugged herself, shivering and began to rock back and forth on the couch. The glassy, blank look crept back into her eyes and Mark reached up and grabbed her shoulders with both hands.
"April, listen to me." he said, trying to control his voice from showing the fear he felt. "April!"
She stopped rocking and turned her blank eyes towards him.
"April, I called a good friend of mine about a week ago." Mark said. "He's a good friend of Roger's too. I told him about Roger's problem and he came back here to help him. He says the best thing we can do is to set up an intervention for him. Do you know what that is?"
She shook her head slowly.
"It's when close friends and family gather together to tell someone they love that they need help." Mark said. His words tumbled out of his mouth at a rushed speed. "April, we're going to do this for Roger, okay? We're going to get Roger the help he needs, okay? It may take a few weeks for me to get things set up but I promise you, Roger will be okay. Everything will get better. I'll fix things for you, April, I promise. I promise I'll make things like they were before. You'll be happy again. I promise."
April looked away from Mark and a slow, strange smile touched her lips.
"Things will never be the same again, Mark." she said softly. "I'll never be happy again and nothing you can do will change that."
Mark shivered at how sure she sounded. He unwrapped his scarf from around his neck and wrapped it around her hands.
"Here." he said, getting up. "Keep this on while I get you a sweater. And then I'm going to make you something eat, okay? Just stay here."
He walked quickly to Roger's bedroom and opened the door. He hesitated and then walked in. The room was like a cave, dark and cold. The bed was unmade and most of Roger's clothes were on the floor next to the bed. Mark stared at them for a minute, trying to see if any of April's clothes were in the pile. After a few seconds, he went to the closet and opened it. April's clothes were in there, neatly hung and folded. He grabbed a thick looking sweater from a hanger and turned around when something on Roger's nightstand caught his eye.
It was a syringe.
For a moment, Mark stared at it as if he were in a trance. The tip of the needle seemed to gleam in the absence of light and for a moment, Mark wondered what it would be like if he picked it up and....
Shit, don't scare yourself Cohen, Mark thought, shaking his head. He jumped over the pile of Roger's clothes and walked out into the loft.
"April?"
She wasn't on the couch where he had left her. He hurried to where she had been sitting and found his scarf on the armrest. He looked up to the door and saw that it was still slightly open. He sighed and walked over to close it. As he turned around, he noticed that the red light on his camera was still on.
Mark frowned and picked it up.
Had he captured April and himself on film accidently?
With rapid movements, he took out the roll of film and half walked, half ran to his room. He placed the roll on his projector, rewound it, and then aimed it at the blank wall.
At first his face filled up the space and Mark quickly looked away. He turned the sound off before he could hear his own voice.
Finally, April's slight figure appeared on the wall and Mark looked up to study her.
With the sound still off, he watched transfixed as he watched himself help April to the couch. Because no one had been behind the camera at the time, the picture was at a weird slight angle. He watched April's face as she spoke, her lips mouthing unheard words. He noticed how puffy and red her eyes were and how she seemed to be whiter than the snow that fell outside the window. Finally, Mark left and April was left sitting on the couch with his scarf still wrapped around her hands.
She looked up and then pulled his scarf off of her hands.
She stood up and then took one step towards where Mark had gone but stopped.
For a minute, she looked after him and Mark watched her expression change from fear to sadness. She pulled out the peice of paper from her purse, looked down at it and then closed her eyes. After a few seconds, she opened them again with a grim look on her face. She stuffed the paper back in her bag and then hurried towards the door and out of the frame. Mark rewound the film to the point where she had gotten up from the couch.
He paused it and then stared at her face.
She looked like a deer trapped in the headlights of an oncoming car- terrified and helpless.
Desperate.
"What are you hiding from me, April?" he said, unaware that he was speaking outloud. "God, April just tell me. I'd do anything to make things better for you. I'll help him and you. I promise. Everything will be better. You and Roger will live happily ever after... even if it means that I'll be alone, as long as you're happy.... it doesn't matter how."
Mark hung his head.
Chapter 4- Promises, promises
"He's using again."
Mark looked up at man sitting across from him.
"And this time, it's worse."
Collins frowned and shook his head.
"Are you sure?" he asked quietly. His warm liquid eyes poured sympathy into Mark's soul and Mark felt the heavy weight that had been on his heart lift momentarily. He had missed the comforting presence of his old friend, the stability of his love and friendship had been gone too long and now Mark clung to the desperate hope that Collins could fix everything that was broken in their lives.
Roger.
April.
Mark.
Mark nodded and stared down at the cup of steaming hot tea on the table in front of him.
"I'm sure."
The two men sat silently in their booth at the Life Cafe, thinking.
More than a week had passed since Mark made the fateful call to Collins, begging him to come home. Because it was nearly Christmas, Collins had had trouble finding a flight back and Mark had spent the days waiting for his friend in tense anticipation.
Outside, the light winter snow fell upon the streets of New York, coating it in a pretty white blanket that belied the dirt and filth that lay beneath it. Mark's camera lay next to his hand, cold and unused for the past week. He couldn't find it in his heart to even raise the camera up to his eye but he took it with him wherever he went, as if it were a security blanket.
"It's ten times worse." Mark said softly, finally breaking the silence. "It doesn't even seem like he's Roger anymore. It's like he's... possessed. He's like a vampire. He only comes out at night and sleeps during the day. He's lost so much weight and.. and everytime I try to talk to him, he ends up screaming at me..."
Mark's voice began to grow louder as he grew agitated.
"I can see the track marks on him from across the room, Collins. How sick am I? That I notice his fucking track marks? That I try to keep count of them to make sure that..."
A few customers nearby stopped talking to each other and raised their eyes towards their booth.
Mark blinked back his tears and Collins leaned across the table and placed his large, comforting hand on his shoulder.
"Mark, you're not alone in this, okay?" Collins said soothingly. "I'm here for you. We're all here for you and we'll all help Roger though this. I promise."
Mark shook his head and curled his hands up into tight fists.
"No, that's not true." he said, pushing down the next sob that threatened to explode out of him. "Benny's gone God knows where and Maureen... she doesn't care about Roger. Not really. She moved out two months ago to get away from me and him."
Tears slid down his cheeks as he lowered his head.
"And April.. God, Collins, April just... It's killing her. Everyday she dies just a little bit more and... She's actually there when he..."
"Who's April?" Collins asked.
Mark looked up and frowned.
And then he exhaled loudly.
"That's right, you don't know about April." he said in a shaky voice. "April is Roger's girlfriend. They've been together since May of this year. She practically lives with us now."
"Is she an addict too?" Collins asked.
Mark shook his head vigorously.
"No." he said firmly. "April's not like that. She's... She just wouldn't do that."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes" Mark said. He grabbed the hot cup in front of him with his cold hands for warmth. "April. God. I don't know why she just doesn't leave... Sometimes I wish she would even though I'd... She doesn't deserve this, this life."
Collins stared at him.
"Neither do you, Mark." he said quietly. "You do know that, don't you?"
Mark lowered his head.
"Mark?"
"I don't know what I deserve anymore." Mark said, staring down at his hands. "Maybe this is what I get for feeling... I don't know. Maybe the people I love are being punished for something I did. I've already lost Maureen- it's just a matter of time before she breaks up with me. I'm losing Roger and... April... I never even... I don't know, Collins. I don't know what to do."
He looked up at Collins and shrugged helplessly.
"Please... tell me what to do to fix this." he begged suddenly. "I'll do anything. Tell me what to do to make Roger quit for good. Tell me what to do because I don't know anything anymore. Please, Collins?"
Collins shook his head sadly.
"Mark, I'm not God." he said gently. "I can't make miracles happen. But I can try to help."
Mark nodded, blinking back the tears that had returned to his eyes.
"I should have come back sooner." Collins said, more to himself than to Mark. "I should have never left New York at all."
"I should have called you sooner."
"Why didn't you? You know I would have come as soon as I knew.."
"Because..."
Mark shrugged and wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. He took a deep breath and exhaled it slowly.
"Because you have enough to worry about yourself. I didn't want to make your life worse by telling you." he said finally. "And this isn't your fault."
"It's not yours either." Collins said. "Mark? Look at me. You have to believe that."
Mark raised his eyes and shrugged.
"Does it matter what I believe?" Mark asked dully. "I have to help him, Collins. That's all that matters."
Collins leaned forward and stared at Mark.
"Then we'll help him. All of us."
Two hours later Mark was back at the loft, sitting cross legged on the table with the phone to his ear.
Come on, Maureen, pick up, he thought, feeling his heart racing in his chest.
It had been two weeks since he'd seen or heard from her and he knew that their time together was basically at an end. Whatever facade she put on when she saw him wasn't enough to convince Mark anymore. Their relationship was working on borrowed time.
Mark knew it.
But he had other things, other people, to worry about.
Still.... that didn't make it hurt any less.
"Hi, you've reached Maureen Johnson's residence...."
Mark cursed but waited patiently for the beep of the answering machine. This was important.
When it finally came, Mark closed his eyes and spoke into the phone.
"Hey Maureen... it's Mark." he said. "I know you probably don't want to hear from me but it's really important that you call me back. Collins is back in town and he..."
"Hello?" Maureen sounded breathless on the other line. Mark frowned.
"Maureen? I thought you weren't home."
"Mark! Baby, I was in the shower. Thank God I made it out here in time." she said with a carefree laugh.
"Collins is back in town? That's great! Let's have lunch with him tomorrow and catch..."
"Maureen, he came back for Roger." Mark said. "I called him and told him what was happening."
"Oh?"
"Yeah."
"What'd he say?"
"He said... well, he wants us to do an intervention for Roger. Try to convince him to get into rehab. I want you to be there because...."
Maureen sighed. "Christ Mark, you know Roger's never done anything anyone's told him to do...."
"That doesn't mean we shouldn't try to help him....."
"...Mark, sweetie, just move out and let April handle her own shit. This is her problem now, not yours..."
"He's my bestfriend..."
"And what's he ever done for you, Mark? I mean, so he's beaten up a few guys because they made fun of you back in high school. Big fucking deal. You're both adults now and whatever consequences Roger has to face is his own fault."
"God, Maureen, how selfish can you be?" Mark said, feeling his temper rise. "Roger was the one who convinced Benny to let you stay with us when you got kicked out of your house. He put up with your crap even though he could've just kicked you out..."
"He didn't do it because he was a nice guy, he did it because you asked him to!"
"Exactly!" Mark cried out. "Because I was his bestfriend and he knew how important it was to me for you to stay. I'm not going to turn my back on him now when he needs me the most and if you don't want to help him then fine. I should have never asked you."
"Dammit, Mark! Don't play this guilt bullshit with me!" Maureen screamed.
Mark closed his eyes. He softly exhaled the breath he had been holding unconsciously and forced himself to breathe.
"You're right. I'm sorry." he said quietly. "I'm sorry, Maureen. I...I'll call you back later."
"No, wait, Mark." She sounded contrite and sad. "I'm sorry too. I know how much you love him and... I just don't want to see you get hurt if he doesn't quit using. I don't want you to feel like it's your fault if things don't get better. You're a good person. A good friend. More than Roger deserves."
Mark pressed his hands to his eyes as if he were trying to physically push back the tears that had gathered there.
"I care about you, Mark. I really do. And.. if it really means that much to you, then I'll go. Just tell me when."
"Thanks, Maureen." he said quietly.
"Mark, I do care about you. You know that, right?" she said after awhile. "It's just that... well, I've been busy lately and I promise you, when things settle down, things between us will be better, okay Pookie?"
"I know."
"Good." she said, sounding happy again. "Call me when everything's set. I'll come."
"Okay."
"I love you."
She hung up before he could respond.
Mark put the phone back down on the receiver and stared at it.
God, when did things get so complicated? he thought.
When Roger started using again.
No.
Even before that.
Mark picked up his camera and stared at the black, gaping hole of the lens. A chaotic haze of contradicting emotions filled his mind as he stared down into the black depths of his camera. He flicked it on with one finger and held it up to his face.
"Roger's sick." he said. "And I have to help him. It's that simple."
He sighed and then shook his head.
"No, I'm lying. It's not that simple. Who am I trying to help, really? Be honest with yourself, Mark. Who is it I'm really trying to save here? Roger? Myself? Or is it her? April. And it's not like she'll come running to me when he gets better because she loves him. God, she loves him and whatever he does to himself, he does to her. And whatever she feels, I feel. And this whole thing with Maureen... it's only a matter of time before she cuts me loose. I used to worship the ground she walked on and now I... I don't know what I'm trying to say anymore."
He lowered his camera and then closed his eyes. After a minutes, he opened them again and raised the camera back up to his face.
"It's a sad fucking triangle I've gotten myself into. Sometimes I wonder if things would have been different if Roger had never met.... or if I had met her first...."
He shook his head again
"The sick truth is this- he's my bestfriend and he needs my help. That should be the only thing that's pushing me right now but it's not. It's just... not."
Suddenly Mark heard a loud thump outside the loft door.
He looked up in time to see the door swing open and April stumbling through the doorway. She was horribly pale and her eyes were blank and glassy. She had a strange dazed look on her face.
Mark put his camera down and rushed towards her.
She looked as if she were going to pass out.
"Oh my God, April!" he exclaimed. He grabbed her waist and she fell against him heavily, as if she had no more strength to keep herself upright. He half pulled, half carried her to the couch and set her down. He kneeled down in front of her and grabbed her ice cold hands, rubbing them between his palms to warm them up.
"April, what happened?" he asked. "Did you walk through the snow without a coat? Jesus Christ, April, you're freezing. What happened?"
She opened her mouth to talk but only a small, stifled whimper came out. She pulled her hands back from Mark and covered her face. Mark looked up at her, feeling powerless and confused. His eyes traveled down from her brown hair which was getting damp from melting snowflakes, to her hands and then to her bag which lay half open next to her.
Sticking out of the front pocket was a white peice of paper. Mark narrowed his eyes and tried to read the header.
... Pharmacy prescription...results for Dylan, April...positi...
"April, what's that?" he asked softly, reaching for it. "Are you sick?"
April raised her head and then moved back violently, pushing Mark's hand away from her bag.
"God, Mark, don't touch that!" she cried out. Mark stared at her as she stuffed the peice of paper further into her bag. "That's none of your business!"
"I..I'm sorry." Mark stuttered. He looked up at her face. "April, what happened?"
She opened her mouth and then closed it again, looking around the loft like a lost child.
"Where's Roger?" she asked in a small voice.
"I don't know, April." Mark said as she searched the room with her frantic gaze. "You would know better than me."
"I have to talk to him."
"About what?" Mark asked.
April's eyes finally settled on Mark's face. A look of pure misery swept across her face and she lowered her head.
"Nothing." she said quietly.
"April, you can tell me anything, you know that." Mark said earnestly.
"I know, Mark." she said in a voice that was barely above a whisper. She stared at her hands. "But this time... this is just between Roger and me."
Though he was hurt, Mark nodded. "I understand."
Her head jerked up and she stared into his eyes.
"No you don't, Mark." she said bitterly. "You don't understand. Roger has... he... I..."
She hugged herself, shivering and began to rock back and forth on the couch. The glassy, blank look crept back into her eyes and Mark reached up and grabbed her shoulders with both hands.
"April, listen to me." he said, trying to control his voice from showing the fear he felt. "April!"
She stopped rocking and turned her blank eyes towards him.
"April, I called a good friend of mine about a week ago." Mark said. "He's a good friend of Roger's too. I told him about Roger's problem and he came back here to help him. He says the best thing we can do is to set up an intervention for him. Do you know what that is?"
She shook her head slowly.
"It's when close friends and family gather together to tell someone they love that they need help." Mark said. His words tumbled out of his mouth at a rushed speed. "April, we're going to do this for Roger, okay? We're going to get Roger the help he needs, okay? It may take a few weeks for me to get things set up but I promise you, Roger will be okay. Everything will get better. I'll fix things for you, April, I promise. I promise I'll make things like they were before. You'll be happy again. I promise."
April looked away from Mark and a slow, strange smile touched her lips.
"Things will never be the same again, Mark." she said softly. "I'll never be happy again and nothing you can do will change that."
Mark shivered at how sure she sounded. He unwrapped his scarf from around his neck and wrapped it around her hands.
"Here." he said, getting up. "Keep this on while I get you a sweater. And then I'm going to make you something eat, okay? Just stay here."
He walked quickly to Roger's bedroom and opened the door. He hesitated and then walked in. The room was like a cave, dark and cold. The bed was unmade and most of Roger's clothes were on the floor next to the bed. Mark stared at them for a minute, trying to see if any of April's clothes were in the pile. After a few seconds, he went to the closet and opened it. April's clothes were in there, neatly hung and folded. He grabbed a thick looking sweater from a hanger and turned around when something on Roger's nightstand caught his eye.
It was a syringe.
For a moment, Mark stared at it as if he were in a trance. The tip of the needle seemed to gleam in the absence of light and for a moment, Mark wondered what it would be like if he picked it up and....
Shit, don't scare yourself Cohen, Mark thought, shaking his head. He jumped over the pile of Roger's clothes and walked out into the loft.
"April?"
She wasn't on the couch where he had left her. He hurried to where she had been sitting and found his scarf on the armrest. He looked up to the door and saw that it was still slightly open. He sighed and walked over to close it. As he turned around, he noticed that the red light on his camera was still on.
Mark frowned and picked it up.
Had he captured April and himself on film accidently?
With rapid movements, he took out the roll of film and half walked, half ran to his room. He placed the roll on his projector, rewound it, and then aimed it at the blank wall.
At first his face filled up the space and Mark quickly looked away. He turned the sound off before he could hear his own voice.
Finally, April's slight figure appeared on the wall and Mark looked up to study her.
With the sound still off, he watched transfixed as he watched himself help April to the couch. Because no one had been behind the camera at the time, the picture was at a weird slight angle. He watched April's face as she spoke, her lips mouthing unheard words. He noticed how puffy and red her eyes were and how she seemed to be whiter than the snow that fell outside the window. Finally, Mark left and April was left sitting on the couch with his scarf still wrapped around her hands.
She looked up and then pulled his scarf off of her hands.
She stood up and then took one step towards where Mark had gone but stopped.
For a minute, she looked after him and Mark watched her expression change from fear to sadness. She pulled out the peice of paper from her purse, looked down at it and then closed her eyes. After a few seconds, she opened them again with a grim look on her face. She stuffed the paper back in her bag and then hurried towards the door and out of the frame. Mark rewound the film to the point where she had gotten up from the couch.
He paused it and then stared at her face.
She looked like a deer trapped in the headlights of an oncoming car- terrified and helpless.
Desperate.
"What are you hiding from me, April?" he said, unaware that he was speaking outloud. "God, April just tell me. I'd do anything to make things better for you. I'll help him and you. I promise. Everything will be better. You and Roger will live happily ever after... even if it means that I'll be alone, as long as you're happy.... it doesn't matter how."
Mark hung his head.