Author's Note: Yeah, I know it's short. But I've been really writer's blocked with this story lately, so it was short update or no update. More soon, I promise.

Chapter 10: Come to Your Senses

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February 1st

"Does this shirt make me look fat?" Maureen asked, examining herself critically in the mirror.

Joanne glanced up from the screen of her laptop and regarded Maureen with a mix of annoyance and concern.

"God, Maureen, how many times do I have to tell you that you are *not* fat?"

"Until you tell the truth." Maureen snapped, stripping off the shirt she'd been scrutinizing and selecting another one from the closet.

"How'd your audition go?" Joanne asked, changing the subject.

"It didn't."

"What?" Joanne snapped shut the lid of her laptop and went over to stand behind Maureen.

"It didn't go!" Maureen shouted. "Avery wouldn't send me. Said I wasn't 'mentally stable' enough."

"Well. . .you know. . .you *have* been through a lot lately. . ." Joanne pointed out gently.

"A lot? That's what you call it? A lot?! Well I'll tell you something, Miss Successful, everything I've 'been through' has been for this part! And now Avery won't let me go just because I got sick a few weeks ago. It's his fault!" Maureen exploded, starting to cry.

"Maureen. . ." Joanne protested, wrapping her arms around Maureen's unnaturally thin waist, "I know what you're going through is hard, but it's nobody's fault. It just happened. And you'll get through it. I know you will."

"But it *is* his fault!" Maureen sobbed, "It *is*! And now he won't even let me *try* for the part. I'm going to go through all of this for *nothing*."

"Maureen. . .I know that's how you feel right now but just. . .give it some time."

"You know what?"

"What?"

"I don't want to be an actress anymore. I'm so sick of having other people judge me on-on what I look like. Or how I walk, or how I talk. Who are they to say whether I have any talent or not?"

"No one." Joanne agreed.

"Great!" Maureen screamed, "Just great!"

"What now?"

"I have no life! No dreams, no career! No life!"

"Maureen. . .honeybear. . .you just decided you wanted to give up. . ."

"I don't! I don't!! I just can't. . .deal with this anymore. I'm like. . .like a junkie. I have to keep trying, and yet it keeps hurting me, but I still can't give it up. It would hurt more to stop trying. Does that make any sense?"

Joanne looked quizzically at Maureen.

"Not really. . .I mean. . .if you're not successful, then you should stop. It wouldn't be hard for you to find another career."

"But I don't want to!"

"You just said you did!"

"But I don't! Come on, Jo. . .you can't honestly say you've never had a dream. You have to understand that."

"Sure, I understand dreams. But I don't understand chasing after a dream you can't have."

"Then you don't understand the first thing about me."

Maureen grabbed her jacket from the closet and made her way to the door.

"Wait!" Joanne called, "Where are you going now?"

"The loft." Maureen answered, and left.

~~~**~~~

"Maureen?" Roger said, surprised, as he opened the door.

"No, Barney the Purple Dinosaur," Maureen said sourly, "Are you gonna let me in?"

"I don't know. . .I don't think Benny would like me keeping a dinosaur in my apartment. . .he might try to evict me again."

"Nah, he's too busy making out with Kati to notice. Come on, Rog, lemme in."

Roger gave an exaggerated sigh.

"Oh, all right."

"Maureen!" Mark yelped, dropping the pot lid he'd been washing. It hit the linoleum floor with a loud crash and rolled around for a few moments before hitting a cabinet and stopping.

"Yeah, me. Would everyone please stop acting so glad to see me? The enthusiasm is killing me."

"Umm. . .how are you?" Mark asked awkwardly.

"Oh, just lovely, thanks. I have no life, no career, and a girlfriend who has no imagination. Where's Mimi?"

"Out buying groceries. Anything I can do?" Roger answered.

"I don't know." Maureen sighed, sitting down on the couch. "How do you do it, Rog?"

"Do what?" Roger asked, confused.

"Put up with the frustrations of being an artist."

"Oh," Roger answered blushing, "Umm, I don't?"

"No, seriously. How do you deal with people telling you your work is shit?"

"Well, gee, thanks. Glad to know you have such a high regard for my work." Roger teased.

"That's not what I meant and you know it."

"I know. It's tough, Mo. That's all I can say. Just don't let the creeps get you down."

"But *how*?"

"You just have to know you're better than them. Prove you're worth it. The first time I told my dad I wanted to be a songwriter and played something I'd written for him, he told he was sure I'd 'come to my sense and choose a real job' by the time it mattered. I never forgot that. I guess in a way that forced me to keep trying. To show him that he couldn't stop me."

Maureen regarded him thoughtfully.

"Yeah. . .I guess you're right. I guess. . .if I give up now, then I let them win. Thanks, Roger."

"No problem."

Maureen got up to go.

"Hey, Mark, how are things with you and Aimee?"

"What?" Mark yelped, dropping a frying pan this time.

"I've seen the way you look at her," Maureen teased. "Keep trying. You'll get there eventually."

"Hey, Mo, keep your head up. And try to follow your own advice." Mark replied, grinning.

~~~**~~~

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