Well, seeing as that I've never been high, tell me if I get something wrong. Y'know, if the behavior's kind of off, just tell me. Please. ::sigh:: I'm too tired to really research it. Thanks for all the kind reviews!
Peace
-elodie
Wisp
Chapter 12
Mark had been pacing all night. He and Winnie had taken Roger to the hospital the night before. Now, on the 4th of July, they were stuck in the hospital waiting room.
"Mark, come sit down. Pacing won't help him," Winnie pleaded. She'd curled herself up in a chair, her legs folded like a pretzel. She was shivering, glancing nervously at all the people sitting around them.
Mark shook his head. "No, I can't. How can you expect me to sit and relax while Roger's in there?"
"I never said you had to relax," Winnie murmured, wrapping her arms around herself. "Please, I just feel really uncomfortable in here and you're not making it any better."
"It's not all about you," Mark snapped. "You don't have to stay. If you feel so uncomfortable then just go home. It's not like I'm making you stay."
Winnie stared at him in disbelief. "Well, excuse me. I can tell when I'm not wanted. I'll just go home now." She jumped out of the chair and began to walk out the doors.
"Some concern you have for Roger, huh?" Mark heard himself yell.
With sad eyes, Winnie shook her head and turned her back on him. Mark felt like a loser. He shouldn't have snapped like that. She didn't deserve it. Truth is, things had been a little tense between them lately.
Winnie was…late. And they were a bit financially strapped. She was scared to test, scared that she'd have to make a really big decision that she didn't think she was emotionally able to handle.
She'd been more withdrawn and Mark had been stressed. But they'd never snapped at each other. Not like that. Everything had been perfect all spring. They'd been closer than ever, especially after getting back from Gloucester. But the end of June had done them in.
They'd argued a bit, yelled, fought about silly things. But they'd never snapped.
Winnie was self-destructing again. Mark had seen the red lines all over her arms. She was depressed again. He urged her to go to therapy but she refused. And now he'd snapped at her. And she'd left…
* * *
Winnie had never thought her toes were funny, but as she wiggled them, she couldn't help giggling. God, it felt great to be high. She hadn't smoked a joint in more than a year and she loved the way her problems melted from her. She'd eaten so much. A sandwich, a bunch of pickles, chips, a nice big cup of coffee and nearly a whole pint of ice cream. She felt like her stomach would explode, but her toes were just so goddamn funny…
She lay on her back, gazing up at the stained ceiling. There were a bunch of dots arranged like stars. She lifted her arm up and pointed out Orion and Ursa Minor. This made her laugh some more.
Shit, it felt good to laugh. She and Mark hadn't laughed together in so long… Things were tense. Roger might actually kick the bucket.
Roger was dying… It couldn't really register in her cloudy mind. Well, he nearly died before and but then didn't. Maybe he'd pull through again.
The ceiling was really dirty…
If Roger could pull through, then everything would be happy. Everyone.
There's a fly. It's on her foot.
If Mark could stop snapping at her. He's not the only one who's hurting. He didn't have to snap at her.
It flew away.
There's no baby. At least, the test said negative. She was relieved to say the least.
She should scrub the ceiling…
* * *
"Winnie, what are you doing?"
"The ceiling was dirty." Winnie was standing on a folding chair she'd placed on top of the easy chair. She was scrubbing furiously at the ceiling.
"Winnie, come down. You'll get hurt."
"But the ceiling is dirty!"
Mark grabbed her around the waist and pulled her down, getting hit in the face with a wet sponge in the process. "Winnie, the ceiling doesn't need to be cleaned. Wait, why are your eyes all bloodshot? You - You're stoned, aren't you?"
Winnie giggled and, tripping over her own feet, collapsed on the couch. "Roger had some pot stored in a drawer. I haven't gotten high since high school. It feels good to whisk all my troubles away."
Mark rolled his eyes. "You shouldn't forget about your troubles."
"Don't tell me what to do."
"I'm not trying to!"
"Yes you are!"
"Listen; don't take out your anger on me."
"I hate this. You say that I shouldn't forget my troubles? God, you're such a hypocrite."
Mark was taken aback. "Since when am I a hypocrite?"
"Since forever."
"How?"
"You're telling me not to take out my anger on you, yet what do you think you're doing to me?" Winnie was smiling broadly, even though her voice was so angry. Mark tried to look away from her; he hated seeing her like this. It was scaring him.
He shook his head vehemently. "I'm not taking out my anger on you."
Winnie nodded. "You've been short with me for the past three weeks. You're criticizing me. Every little thing I do, it's wrong, it's bad; I shouldn't do it that way. Nothing's good enough. You're beginning to remind me of my brother."
"Listen, I am not like your brother. If anyone is, you are!"
"No!" Winnie screeched, covering her ears with her hands like a child. "I am not like my brother!" She pronounced each word separately, her voice beginning to crack. "I'm not him."
"Yes you are. All that progress we've made, it's out the door. You're acting like him again. Running away from your problems. Christ, look at your arm." Mark grabbed Winnie's arm and pointed to the angry red marks marring her pale skin. A bit higher than the ugly puckered scars from the past December, but just as deep. "You're self-destructing. Winnie, you're killing yourself slowly."
Winnie shook her head, starting to cry. "No, you're killing me." She yanked her arm out of his grasp and ran for the door.
"Winnie! Where are you going?"
"Away!"
The door slammed.
Should he go after her? She probably needed some time to stew and then she'd be back and everything would be fine again. Truth is, he needed her. He had no one to talk to. Roger wasn't allowed any visitors yet, Maureen and Joanne were visiting Joanne's parents in Boston and Collins was away on business. That left Winnie. Who had just walked out the door on him.
He needed a drink… That's what he'd do. Get drunk. Drown all his sorrows away. Fucking Christ, he was a hypocrite…
* * *
Winnie shivered. It was cold out. She could feel a few chilly raindrops hit her cheeks, mixing with the salty tears.
Her head was beginning to clear. Where was she? On a Central Park bench, shivering in one of Mark's old t-shirts and corduroy pants. It was raining.
Clap!
Winnie jumped. Thunder… Great. She should really find shelter. Ugh, her head ached. She didn't want to move.
What had happened? Everything was kind of fuzzy, but slowly coming into focus. Mark, and the chairs and ceiling spots. How she'd sucked on that joint with her fingers shaking. They'd shook so much she kept missing her lips. That sweet smoke, spinning her head up and up and around.
She'd washed the ceiling and then Mark had…
Winnie groaned. She and Mark had fought. What had she called him? Oh, yeah. A hypocrite. It was true. He was. He'd always been. At least, as long as she'd known him.
They had so much in common… They had the same problems, it seems. But Winnie's were just ten times more visible so Mark pretended to take care of Winnie exclusively. But in doing so, he'd been fixing himself.
Did that make any sense?
Winnie threw her face back to feel the tiny sting of cold rain dropping onto her skin. Should she go home? A watch, did she have a watch? No. But it was close to sunup. The sky was lightening slightly. She could see the outline of clouds easier.
How many hours had she been out here? Too many. The shirt was completely soaked through. She felt like curling up and going to sleep, but everything was so wet.
This reminded her of that night so long ago. Seven months? Yeah, about that… Will there be an Angel to save her?
"You OK, honey?"
Winnie looked up and smiled broadly. "Angel…"
The drag queen took her hand and sat next to her on the bench. "Honey, you shouldn't be out in the rain on a horrible morning like this. Go home. That boy needs you. You need him."
"How did you-" Winnie's jaw dropped.
Angel interrupted her. "Oh, you'd be surprised, honey. Go home. Everything will be fine."
"Winnie!"
Winnie turned to see who was calling her name. It was Mark. He was running towards her.
He nearly knocked her off the bench as he fell to his knees in the mud and grabbed her in a tight hug. "Oh, Winnie, I've been looking for you for hours. Please don't ever leave like that again. I'm so sorry, Winnie."
Winnie wrapped her arms around him tightly. She was surprised to feel him quaking. Was he crying? "I want to go home," She said quietly.
"God, I'm such an idiot… I'll never do that to you again. You're right. I'm a fucking hypocrite and I've been horrible to you this past week. I'm just stressed about Roger. I'll never snap at you, I'll never yell. Winnie, I love you so much, don't leave me." Mark was sniffling and sobbing into her shoulder. He was crying.
Winnie ran her fingers through his soft blond hair, patting the top of his head like she would a dog. "I won't," She murmured. Realizing something, her head snapped up and she looked around. "Where'd she go?"
"Who?" Mark lifted his head off her shoulder and wiped his eyes.
"Angel!"
"Angel?"
"Yes, Angel. She was just here a second ago. Then she disappeared. That was the person that got me out of the snow last Christmas. She brought me to the Life and gave me money. And she was right here. Just before you got here. I turned my head when you called and…" Seeing Mark's confused look, she leaned in and kissed him. "Never mind. Mark, do you think I could see a psychiatrist? Maybe you and I could go together. Anything. I need help."
Mark nodded, resting his head in her lap. "Anything to make you better, Winnie. I'll do anything for you."
"Let's go home," Winnie whispered, wiping away a tear from his face. "We need to go home."