Scattering the pieces
The white walls stared back at him. The chair bit into his back.
He shuffled his feet.
Shit . . .
How could she?
He played with his hands. He had called the loft, left a message
on the machine. He didn't know what to say. How could he know
what to say?
"I'm at the hospital . . ."
The mess they'd all see in the bathroom.
Why?
Mark stared at the doors. He had no idea if she would be okay,
but he knew that she wouldn't. Even if death wasn't there, she
would be far from okay.
Roger.
I'm sorry.
We've got AIDS.
He swallowed.
He had no idea where Roger was. Band practice, roaming the lower
East side, looking for another fix . . .
He knew. Fuck it, he knew.
He did nothing.
April had tried to kill herself, maybe succeeding, and he knew
that she and Roger had been using. Knew Roger was using before
April. Of course then, it was less frequent and he forced himself
to not notice, although it was plain as day staring him in the
face and easy to see even through a camera lens.
The one time he did mention it taught him to ignore it even more.
He and Roger were the only ones home. April was somewhere else, a
friend's, somewhere. Roger blew up, slamming fists, grabbing Mark
and shoving him against a wall, telling him never ever to mention
what he did with his life again.
He was high, Mark knew. Roger wasn't that violent. Not when he
was off drugs, not drunk. Somewhat normal. Sure, he had a temper,
but . . .
Mark retreated back to his little corner, helpless, watching his
best friend throw his life away. Watched April throw her life
away.
Was it only a year ago that they'd just met? That she was
innocent, barely 18, and like they all were, running from her
family life?
It seemed so far away. So long ago.
He wished someone else were here. That someone else had found her.
If he had come home a couple of minutes later, it would have been
different.
God, Roger.
How would he handle this?
HIV wasn't a new thing to him, even to Roger. Collins was HIV
positive; had been for a couple of years. But he took his AZT and
seemed healthy. One look at him and you never knew. Collins
wasn't giving up, and Mark admired that more than anything. His
look at life was something to look up to.
He knew with Roger it would be different. Looking at Collins, it
was hard to believe that he'd die someday. Mark knew about HIV,
read a lot about it after Collins had been diagnosed, but still,
looking at him, it didn't seen real. No, not real. Not AIDS.
Roger was already a mess. A wasted figure of a human being, drugs
in control. HIV could eat him alive.
Eat April alive.
It already has, he told himself. Look where you are.
Right.
Funny, how he always ended up in these situations. He wished
Collins were here. Were there. He was the peacemaker. He'd know
what to do.
Yeah.
He didn't know whether to try and locate April's family. She
rarely talked about them. He'd only heard her mention them once,
truly. Listening to Roger strum his guitar in the background, she
once told Mark she was the middle child of upper middle class
parents. A real disappoint and bother.
He related to it, for her story sounded similar to his own, but
April never revealed anything farther.
"Mark!"
A glance up saw Maureen, Collins. Both rushed toward him. Maureen
reached out to him and he let himself be embraced. He wouldn't
meet their eyes.
"We heard the message," Collins said softly. "I
ran into Maureen in the stairwell on my way out."
"Yeah," Maureen echoed, and for a second, it seemed
like she had nothing to say.
Silence.
"How is she?" Collins ventured the question. He broke
his contact with Maureen.
"I don't know." Deep breath. "Someone should find
Roger . . ."
Collins nodded. Maureen sat. Mark swallowed.
"I - I should find him. Tell him, I guess."
"Are you sure, honey?" Maureen asked, looking
incredibly uncomfortable in the environment. Maureen was the type
of person that was used to managing her own well being. She could
care deeply for others, and could be incredibly sweet, two things
Mark loved about her, but she tended to still waver toward her
selfish ways. Times like these, though, she was at a loss. They
all were.
He wondered if they saw the message in the bathroom.
He needed to find Roger.
He got up and shook Maureen off, promising the two he'd be back
soon. They said they'd wait. Wait for the doctor, word on April.
Pray.
He set out, ready to search all of New York.
Shit.
End of chapter two.
Anyone like this idea? Worth continuing? Reviews are much
appreciated.
