Collins and Mark walked through the parking lot until they found Collins' beat-up used car. It was the best he could do for the money he had. They sped their way through the streets of New York until they arrived at the apartment. Collins got his keys ready and ran up the stairs and opened the door.
"Oh fuck no..." he said.
"What?" Mark said a few seconds later when he had finally gotten up the stairs and into the apartment. "Oh God."
They both stared at Roger in astonishment. Erica was lying asleep on the couch and Roger was sitting next to her. It would've been a Kodak moment if Roger didn't have three empty beer bottles and a bunch of smack lying on the table in front of him.
"And you want me to find him a fucking job? This is exactly why I don't want to help him this time," Collins said, storming through the living room and into his own bedroom.
"I shouldn't have left you here alone. I should've known better. Why didn't I see this coming?" Mark yelled at himself for letting this happen. He stared at Erica and then at Roger. "You're a fucking idiot. I thought you gave all this shit up."
"Huh?" Roger asked in a daze.
Mark wanted to smack the shit out of Roger, but instead, he just picked Erica up and started to carry her into his room.
"Put my fucking daughter down you goody two shoes pussy," Roger yelled.
"There's no way in hell I'm leaving her with you when you're like this. April tells you to stop your drugs and to stop drinking and you do. She gets up and walks out and what do you do? You start all that shit up again. Maybe you should just put Erica up for adoption or something...she'd get a better home than this piece of shit we live in!" Mark said. He didn't want to wake Erica up and expose her to all the stupid things that her father was doing. "Put her in my room," Roger demanded.
Mark refused. Normally, Erica and Roger shared a bed since there was not enough space in the bedroom for two beds, but Mark wouldn't dare let that happen tonight. Mark tucked Erica into his own bed and rushed out of his room when he heard Maureen. She would be the only thing that could brighten up his day at this point.
"Mark! Mark, are you home? Mark I got your call where are you?" Maureen called. She looked over at the couch and shook her head in disappointment. Roger was knocked out now. Maureen went over to the sink and got the washcloth, wiping up the spilled beer and the Roger's stash that had also spilled over the coffee table. "Fucker," she mumbled as she heard Mark running over to her.
He didn't even say a word to her when he first saw her. He just kissed her. She really was the only thing that made the day worth living.
Maureen pulled away and said, "This is one fucked up situation. Have we heard from April at all? A call? Anything?"
Mark shook his head. "Nothing," he said. "I can't believe this," he said, pointing to Roger. "I can't believe he went back to all of this. It's crazy. And you should've seen him when we got in! Erica was asleep right next to him and he was shooting up! How stupid is he?"
Maureen hugged her boyfriend and whispered, "Don't ever do something like this to me baby." She nuzzled her head in his shoulder and pushed Roger off of the couch, where they eventually fell asleep in each other's arms.
Roger awoke on the floor. He rubbed his head and noticed a bump. He didn't know how he ended up on the floor until he saw Maureen and Mark on the couch. He figured they must've pushed him off so they could do God knows what on the couch. That must've been how he got that bump. He looked at the nearest clock. 1:30 in the afternoon.
"No ones up?" he wondered to himself. Maureen and Mark were still comfortably sleeping on the couch. Roger stood up and stumbled around the apartment. Collins had left for work. "Where's Erica?" he wondered. He vaguely recalled his fight with Mark.
"Put her in my room," he had demanded.
He checked in Mark's room when he remembered that Mark refused to put Erica in Roger's room. There she was, sitting on the floor, thumbing through one of Mark's Playboys.
"Woah, woah, woah! You don't need to be looking at this," he said, snatching the magazine out of his daughter's little hands. He looked at the cover and tossed it under Mark's bed. He then crouched down beside her and grabbed her by the shoulders, frightening her a bit.
"God I love you kid," he said.
"I love you too Daddy," she said and smiled sweetly.
One would think that that sweet voice would be enough motivation for Roger to wake up and smell the coffee. Saying that his life was extremely screwed up would be saying the understatement of the century. His wife left him. His wife left him with nothing. His wife left him with his daughter. He still didn't know how the hell he was supposed to raise her successfully. Drugs. He couldn't get away from them. He had been clean for so long and everyone was proud of him. He was especially proud of that accomplishment. He scolded himself for returning to drugs the second something went wrong. Drinking. He never really gave that up completely—drinking was the one thing he had left to make him feel good after he gave up drugs—well, drinking and sex with April of course. He didn't have that anymore either. It was like his whole life got fucked up—again—in a period of twenty-four hours—and there was nothing he could do about it. He knew that he couldn't turn to his roommates for help, at least, not after last night's events. He was literally on his own now and he felt more alone then he ever had.
Roger picked his daughter up into his arms and walked into the kitchen. He looked for something to eat. There, of course, was nothing, but that wasn't any new news.
"You're up," Roger said when he noticed Mark sitting up with a blank stare on his face.
"You're up too," Mark replied.
An awkward silence fell over the room. Roger took his free hand, the hand that was not supporting Erica, and rubbed his forehead.
"You alright?" Mark asked.
Roger didn't answer. He set Erica down on the table in front of him and stared expressionlessly at Mark.
"Roger? Roger? Roger!" he finally yelled.
Roger fell to the ground. His body crashed and Erica screamed. Mark ran over to where Roger had been standing. Mark fanned his hand over Roger's face, screaming at the top of his lungs for Roger to wake up.
"Roger! Come on man wake up! Roger come on!" he screamed.
"Mark? What's going on?" Maureen said sleepily. It took her but a minute to realize that something was seriously wrong. She ran over to Erica and Mark. Erica was crying and Mark was trying to hold his own tears back.
"Maureen call someone! A doctor! An ambulance! I don't fucking care just call someone," Mark demanded.
Maureen ran over to the coffee table where the phone was carelessly put, off the hook.
"It's dead Mark!" she screamed.
"Get Collins!" Mark replied.
"Pookie, Collins is at work," she recalled that Collins had mentioned that he had to work extra hours today.
"I don't care. Go get him! Tell him I took Roger to the hospital and get him to meet me there!" Mark said as he picked his friend up and dragged him over to the couch. "Take Erica with you," he said as he realized he didn't want to take her with him.
Maureen ran over and picked Erica up and ran out to her car. "I'll meet you at the hospital later!" she called to Mark as he carried Roger into his own car.
Mark sped down the streets, occasionally looking into the back seat to check on Roger. He didn't move. He wouldn't respond to anything.
"Please don't let him be dead. Please don't..." Mark repeated to himself time and time again until he reached the hospital. It only took fifteen minutes to get there, but it seemed like an eternity.
An EMT greeted Mark and as he helped Mark get Roger out of the backseat, he asked, "What happened?"
Mark didn't know what to tell him. "He just sort of...fell over about a half an hour ago and he hasn't moved since then. He won't answer me or anything," Mark said, gasping for breath. He stood and watched as six EMTs hoisted Roger onto a stretcher and pushed him through the hospital, running at lightning speeds. Mark sat down on the curb, rubbing his temples and trying to comprehend what was happening.
It wasn't long after Mark's arrival that Maureen and Collins ran up to the curb where Mark was seated, dragging Erica, who was straggling, by the hand.
"Why aren't you inside?" Maureen asked.
"Where's Roger? What the heck is going on?" he said, refraining from using the word "hell" or "fuck" in front of Erica.
Most of the time, no one ever held back the swear words in front of her, but Collins always did. He knew that she would be messed up in the head enough, just from living with a bunch of lunatic bohemians. He didn't want to add to the insanity.
"I wish I could tell you. They told me to stay in the waiting room but I hate hospitals. I haven't been in one since Erica was born and I'd like it to stay that way," Mark said drearily.
"You're going to have to go in there eventually Mark," Maureen said. "You're his best friend. You're basically the only one that can keep him sane now."
"Maybe...but he probably fucking died," Mark replied. He looked up at Collins who was giving him a glare for cursing in front of Erica. "Sorry."
"Well I'm going in. You're welcome to join me now or later I don't care. I'll be out as soon as I find out what the hell—excuse me—heck—is going on here," Collins said sternly.
He let go of Erica's hand and Mark saw that Erica immediately became scared. Collins had always been like a giant teddy bear. He could make any situation better and that was always helpful, especially with Erica around. The things that Erica had witnessed growing up were horrible and Collins had always hoped those memories would leave her. Most kids don't remember their early life, but so many profound things happened in their apartment that it would be hard for her to forget, even if she was so young.
"Excuse me, miss. Do you know where I can find Roger Davis? He was just brought in here a little while ago, like say, twenty minutes ago?" Collins asked the receptionist.
The woman punched a bunch of keys in. She typed really fast, but not as fast as Collins. Computers were his life, but he'd rather have his friends than his work.
"He was rushed into the ER as soon as he got here. He's still there. I doubt you can visit him. I don't have any information on his status right now, but I could have someone check for you," she said. She had an annoying, nasal voice.
"If that wouldn't be too much trouble," Collins requested.
The receptionist walked over to a tenant that was just sitting around. She bent over and instructed him to take care of a few things, Collins imagined that this guy would be the one to go check on Roger. The receptionist moved, giving Collins a full view of the tenant.
"Wow," he thought. "He's easy on the eyes," he whispered to himself. "Oh snap out of it Collins, control your hormones!" he thought. Disciplining himself, he looked away.
"You can wait in the waiting room," the receptionist called out to Collins.
"Well that's almost logical," he said to himself, laughing at his own joke.
He strolled over to a small room where other people were—you guessed it—waiting. Some were crying, some were laughing. Collins picked up a copy of "Technology Today" and read it, trying to get his mind off of things.
A few minutes later, Collins was joined by Maureen and Mark. He could tell that Mark had been crying. Maureen wanted to cry, but she had to be strong for Mark's sake. She wasn't really one to cry anyway.
"Any word?" Maureen asked, still holding Mark tightly.
Collins shook his head and held out his hand above the seats next to him, signaling that it would be best if they all just sat down. Erica hopped on Collins' lap and just stared at the pictures in his magazine.
Finally, after what seemed like, years, the tenant walked into the waiting room and called for "April Davis." Collins looked at Maureen and Mark uneasily. Mark shrugged and Maureen did likewise.
"I'm April Davis," she said and walked over to the tenant, occasionally looking back at Mark and Collins nervously.
"What is she doing?" Mark asked Collins. Collins put his hand on Mark's shoulder.
"I'm sure everything will be fine. Or she'll get arrested for fraud. We'll just have to sit it out and wait," Collins said, trying to lighten the mood with a joke, though it wasn't a very funny one.
The tenant walked with Maureen, or April, depending on how you looked at the situation, up to Roger's room.
"Can I see him?" she asked. She tried to tear up a bit. Her acting skills were finally coming in handy.
"I don't think that'd be such a great idea, but if you want to, you can. He's hooked up to all kinds of machines. It's not a pretty sight, I just want to warn you," the tenant, Louis, said.
Maureen really didn't want to go into Roger's room. She hated seeing people hooked up to IVs and machines ever since she had to visit her father in the hospital after he had a severe heart attack when she was only eight.
"Can you just tell me how he is then? Is he any better? Is he even alive?" Maureen asked, hoping to get all of the information out of Louis as she could.
"Is he alive? Yes. Is he doing better? No. Things aren't going to well for him right now," Louis explained.
"Look he has—we have—a daughter. He has to live, you don't understand," Maureen pleaded.
"Mrs. Davis, this is what drugs and alcohol do to people," Louis replied.
"The drugs. I should've known it was the drugs," Maureen whispered.
"Mrs. Davis I think you may want to just go home. He won't be leaving here for awhile. It's best you just go," the tenant suggested.
Maureen saw this as a perfect opportunity to practice her "angry skills" for future acting gigs.
"Go? Go? Are you kidding me? My husband is damn near death and you want me to leave his side? Oh the humanity!" she yelled.
Louis gave her a funny look. "Well, if you want to stay..." he said. "Are there any more people here for Mr. Davis? I'll tell them about his condition as soon as you give me some health information about your husband. I'll need a few cards, his driver's license, health insurance card, social security card—all that stuff."
"Uh...um, maybe it's in his wallet?" Maureen asked nervously. "He usually keeps it in his back pocket."
Louis went in to check and Maureen started freaking out. She didn't know where the cards were. She didn't have the slightest idea. One would think that a man's wife would know the location of such things.
"Got it," Louis said. Maureen sighed a breath of relief.
"If you don't mind, I think I'd like to tell my friends about Roger," Maureen said. Louis agreed that that was fine.
Maureen ran back down to the waiting room. Mark was pacing and Collins had fallen asleep. Erica was just sitting there trying to occupy herself. Mark lit up when he saw Maureen. "Well, how is he?" he asked.
Maureen wasn't quite sure how to say what she needed to say. Who wants to tell someone that their best friend is dying? No one. How do you go about saying that?
"He's not doing well. At all," Maureen finally said.
Mark ran to her and cried into her shoulders, not caring about how "manly" he didn't look. Real men cry. Collins woke up and saw what was happening. His immediate thoughts were, "Ok, Roger's gone," but he saw Maureen mouth the words, "Roger's not doing well." That soothed his fears...kind of. Not doing well. That means he's not doing good. That basically means he's dying.
The next day, Maureen awoke in the apartment on the couch next to Mark.
"Mark, did you sleep at all?" she asked.
He didn't respond verbally. He just shook his head. Maureen didn't know what to do with her boyfriend. He was so "dead" since the prior day's happenings. He didn't speak a word to anyone since they left the hospital. He just cried until he had no tears left.
"Did you put the phone on the hook like I asked you to?" he finally spoke.
"Yes, Pookie," Maureen said, smiling at his voice.
"Good, I don't want to miss any calls from the hospital."
As if it were planned, the phone rang. Mark shot up from his seat and ran to the phone to be sure he was the one to answer it.
"Oh fuck no..." he said.
"What?" Mark said a few seconds later when he had finally gotten up the stairs and into the apartment. "Oh God."
They both stared at Roger in astonishment. Erica was lying asleep on the couch and Roger was sitting next to her. It would've been a Kodak moment if Roger didn't have three empty beer bottles and a bunch of smack lying on the table in front of him.
"And you want me to find him a fucking job? This is exactly why I don't want to help him this time," Collins said, storming through the living room and into his own bedroom.
"I shouldn't have left you here alone. I should've known better. Why didn't I see this coming?" Mark yelled at himself for letting this happen. He stared at Erica and then at Roger. "You're a fucking idiot. I thought you gave all this shit up."
"Huh?" Roger asked in a daze.
Mark wanted to smack the shit out of Roger, but instead, he just picked Erica up and started to carry her into his room.
"Put my fucking daughter down you goody two shoes pussy," Roger yelled.
"There's no way in hell I'm leaving her with you when you're like this. April tells you to stop your drugs and to stop drinking and you do. She gets up and walks out and what do you do? You start all that shit up again. Maybe you should just put Erica up for adoption or something...she'd get a better home than this piece of shit we live in!" Mark said. He didn't want to wake Erica up and expose her to all the stupid things that her father was doing. "Put her in my room," Roger demanded.
Mark refused. Normally, Erica and Roger shared a bed since there was not enough space in the bedroom for two beds, but Mark wouldn't dare let that happen tonight. Mark tucked Erica into his own bed and rushed out of his room when he heard Maureen. She would be the only thing that could brighten up his day at this point.
"Mark! Mark, are you home? Mark I got your call where are you?" Maureen called. She looked over at the couch and shook her head in disappointment. Roger was knocked out now. Maureen went over to the sink and got the washcloth, wiping up the spilled beer and the Roger's stash that had also spilled over the coffee table. "Fucker," she mumbled as she heard Mark running over to her.
He didn't even say a word to her when he first saw her. He just kissed her. She really was the only thing that made the day worth living.
Maureen pulled away and said, "This is one fucked up situation. Have we heard from April at all? A call? Anything?"
Mark shook his head. "Nothing," he said. "I can't believe this," he said, pointing to Roger. "I can't believe he went back to all of this. It's crazy. And you should've seen him when we got in! Erica was asleep right next to him and he was shooting up! How stupid is he?"
Maureen hugged her boyfriend and whispered, "Don't ever do something like this to me baby." She nuzzled her head in his shoulder and pushed Roger off of the couch, where they eventually fell asleep in each other's arms.
Roger awoke on the floor. He rubbed his head and noticed a bump. He didn't know how he ended up on the floor until he saw Maureen and Mark on the couch. He figured they must've pushed him off so they could do God knows what on the couch. That must've been how he got that bump. He looked at the nearest clock. 1:30 in the afternoon.
"No ones up?" he wondered to himself. Maureen and Mark were still comfortably sleeping on the couch. Roger stood up and stumbled around the apartment. Collins had left for work. "Where's Erica?" he wondered. He vaguely recalled his fight with Mark.
"Put her in my room," he had demanded.
He checked in Mark's room when he remembered that Mark refused to put Erica in Roger's room. There she was, sitting on the floor, thumbing through one of Mark's Playboys.
"Woah, woah, woah! You don't need to be looking at this," he said, snatching the magazine out of his daughter's little hands. He looked at the cover and tossed it under Mark's bed. He then crouched down beside her and grabbed her by the shoulders, frightening her a bit.
"God I love you kid," he said.
"I love you too Daddy," she said and smiled sweetly.
One would think that that sweet voice would be enough motivation for Roger to wake up and smell the coffee. Saying that his life was extremely screwed up would be saying the understatement of the century. His wife left him. His wife left him with nothing. His wife left him with his daughter. He still didn't know how the hell he was supposed to raise her successfully. Drugs. He couldn't get away from them. He had been clean for so long and everyone was proud of him. He was especially proud of that accomplishment. He scolded himself for returning to drugs the second something went wrong. Drinking. He never really gave that up completely—drinking was the one thing he had left to make him feel good after he gave up drugs—well, drinking and sex with April of course. He didn't have that anymore either. It was like his whole life got fucked up—again—in a period of twenty-four hours—and there was nothing he could do about it. He knew that he couldn't turn to his roommates for help, at least, not after last night's events. He was literally on his own now and he felt more alone then he ever had.
Roger picked his daughter up into his arms and walked into the kitchen. He looked for something to eat. There, of course, was nothing, but that wasn't any new news.
"You're up," Roger said when he noticed Mark sitting up with a blank stare on his face.
"You're up too," Mark replied.
An awkward silence fell over the room. Roger took his free hand, the hand that was not supporting Erica, and rubbed his forehead.
"You alright?" Mark asked.
Roger didn't answer. He set Erica down on the table in front of him and stared expressionlessly at Mark.
"Roger? Roger? Roger!" he finally yelled.
Roger fell to the ground. His body crashed and Erica screamed. Mark ran over to where Roger had been standing. Mark fanned his hand over Roger's face, screaming at the top of his lungs for Roger to wake up.
"Roger! Come on man wake up! Roger come on!" he screamed.
"Mark? What's going on?" Maureen said sleepily. It took her but a minute to realize that something was seriously wrong. She ran over to Erica and Mark. Erica was crying and Mark was trying to hold his own tears back.
"Maureen call someone! A doctor! An ambulance! I don't fucking care just call someone," Mark demanded.
Maureen ran over to the coffee table where the phone was carelessly put, off the hook.
"It's dead Mark!" she screamed.
"Get Collins!" Mark replied.
"Pookie, Collins is at work," she recalled that Collins had mentioned that he had to work extra hours today.
"I don't care. Go get him! Tell him I took Roger to the hospital and get him to meet me there!" Mark said as he picked his friend up and dragged him over to the couch. "Take Erica with you," he said as he realized he didn't want to take her with him.
Maureen ran over and picked Erica up and ran out to her car. "I'll meet you at the hospital later!" she called to Mark as he carried Roger into his own car.
Mark sped down the streets, occasionally looking into the back seat to check on Roger. He didn't move. He wouldn't respond to anything.
"Please don't let him be dead. Please don't..." Mark repeated to himself time and time again until he reached the hospital. It only took fifteen minutes to get there, but it seemed like an eternity.
An EMT greeted Mark and as he helped Mark get Roger out of the backseat, he asked, "What happened?"
Mark didn't know what to tell him. "He just sort of...fell over about a half an hour ago and he hasn't moved since then. He won't answer me or anything," Mark said, gasping for breath. He stood and watched as six EMTs hoisted Roger onto a stretcher and pushed him through the hospital, running at lightning speeds. Mark sat down on the curb, rubbing his temples and trying to comprehend what was happening.
It wasn't long after Mark's arrival that Maureen and Collins ran up to the curb where Mark was seated, dragging Erica, who was straggling, by the hand.
"Why aren't you inside?" Maureen asked.
"Where's Roger? What the heck is going on?" he said, refraining from using the word "hell" or "fuck" in front of Erica.
Most of the time, no one ever held back the swear words in front of her, but Collins always did. He knew that she would be messed up in the head enough, just from living with a bunch of lunatic bohemians. He didn't want to add to the insanity.
"I wish I could tell you. They told me to stay in the waiting room but I hate hospitals. I haven't been in one since Erica was born and I'd like it to stay that way," Mark said drearily.
"You're going to have to go in there eventually Mark," Maureen said. "You're his best friend. You're basically the only one that can keep him sane now."
"Maybe...but he probably fucking died," Mark replied. He looked up at Collins who was giving him a glare for cursing in front of Erica. "Sorry."
"Well I'm going in. You're welcome to join me now or later I don't care. I'll be out as soon as I find out what the hell—excuse me—heck—is going on here," Collins said sternly.
He let go of Erica's hand and Mark saw that Erica immediately became scared. Collins had always been like a giant teddy bear. He could make any situation better and that was always helpful, especially with Erica around. The things that Erica had witnessed growing up were horrible and Collins had always hoped those memories would leave her. Most kids don't remember their early life, but so many profound things happened in their apartment that it would be hard for her to forget, even if she was so young.
"Excuse me, miss. Do you know where I can find Roger Davis? He was just brought in here a little while ago, like say, twenty minutes ago?" Collins asked the receptionist.
The woman punched a bunch of keys in. She typed really fast, but not as fast as Collins. Computers were his life, but he'd rather have his friends than his work.
"He was rushed into the ER as soon as he got here. He's still there. I doubt you can visit him. I don't have any information on his status right now, but I could have someone check for you," she said. She had an annoying, nasal voice.
"If that wouldn't be too much trouble," Collins requested.
The receptionist walked over to a tenant that was just sitting around. She bent over and instructed him to take care of a few things, Collins imagined that this guy would be the one to go check on Roger. The receptionist moved, giving Collins a full view of the tenant.
"Wow," he thought. "He's easy on the eyes," he whispered to himself. "Oh snap out of it Collins, control your hormones!" he thought. Disciplining himself, he looked away.
"You can wait in the waiting room," the receptionist called out to Collins.
"Well that's almost logical," he said to himself, laughing at his own joke.
He strolled over to a small room where other people were—you guessed it—waiting. Some were crying, some were laughing. Collins picked up a copy of "Technology Today" and read it, trying to get his mind off of things.
A few minutes later, Collins was joined by Maureen and Mark. He could tell that Mark had been crying. Maureen wanted to cry, but she had to be strong for Mark's sake. She wasn't really one to cry anyway.
"Any word?" Maureen asked, still holding Mark tightly.
Collins shook his head and held out his hand above the seats next to him, signaling that it would be best if they all just sat down. Erica hopped on Collins' lap and just stared at the pictures in his magazine.
Finally, after what seemed like, years, the tenant walked into the waiting room and called for "April Davis." Collins looked at Maureen and Mark uneasily. Mark shrugged and Maureen did likewise.
"I'm April Davis," she said and walked over to the tenant, occasionally looking back at Mark and Collins nervously.
"What is she doing?" Mark asked Collins. Collins put his hand on Mark's shoulder.
"I'm sure everything will be fine. Or she'll get arrested for fraud. We'll just have to sit it out and wait," Collins said, trying to lighten the mood with a joke, though it wasn't a very funny one.
The tenant walked with Maureen, or April, depending on how you looked at the situation, up to Roger's room.
"Can I see him?" she asked. She tried to tear up a bit. Her acting skills were finally coming in handy.
"I don't think that'd be such a great idea, but if you want to, you can. He's hooked up to all kinds of machines. It's not a pretty sight, I just want to warn you," the tenant, Louis, said.
Maureen really didn't want to go into Roger's room. She hated seeing people hooked up to IVs and machines ever since she had to visit her father in the hospital after he had a severe heart attack when she was only eight.
"Can you just tell me how he is then? Is he any better? Is he even alive?" Maureen asked, hoping to get all of the information out of Louis as she could.
"Is he alive? Yes. Is he doing better? No. Things aren't going to well for him right now," Louis explained.
"Look he has—we have—a daughter. He has to live, you don't understand," Maureen pleaded.
"Mrs. Davis, this is what drugs and alcohol do to people," Louis replied.
"The drugs. I should've known it was the drugs," Maureen whispered.
"Mrs. Davis I think you may want to just go home. He won't be leaving here for awhile. It's best you just go," the tenant suggested.
Maureen saw this as a perfect opportunity to practice her "angry skills" for future acting gigs.
"Go? Go? Are you kidding me? My husband is damn near death and you want me to leave his side? Oh the humanity!" she yelled.
Louis gave her a funny look. "Well, if you want to stay..." he said. "Are there any more people here for Mr. Davis? I'll tell them about his condition as soon as you give me some health information about your husband. I'll need a few cards, his driver's license, health insurance card, social security card—all that stuff."
"Uh...um, maybe it's in his wallet?" Maureen asked nervously. "He usually keeps it in his back pocket."
Louis went in to check and Maureen started freaking out. She didn't know where the cards were. She didn't have the slightest idea. One would think that a man's wife would know the location of such things.
"Got it," Louis said. Maureen sighed a breath of relief.
"If you don't mind, I think I'd like to tell my friends about Roger," Maureen said. Louis agreed that that was fine.
Maureen ran back down to the waiting room. Mark was pacing and Collins had fallen asleep. Erica was just sitting there trying to occupy herself. Mark lit up when he saw Maureen. "Well, how is he?" he asked.
Maureen wasn't quite sure how to say what she needed to say. Who wants to tell someone that their best friend is dying? No one. How do you go about saying that?
"He's not doing well. At all," Maureen finally said.
Mark ran to her and cried into her shoulders, not caring about how "manly" he didn't look. Real men cry. Collins woke up and saw what was happening. His immediate thoughts were, "Ok, Roger's gone," but he saw Maureen mouth the words, "Roger's not doing well." That soothed his fears...kind of. Not doing well. That means he's not doing good. That basically means he's dying.
The next day, Maureen awoke in the apartment on the couch next to Mark.
"Mark, did you sleep at all?" she asked.
He didn't respond verbally. He just shook his head. Maureen didn't know what to do with her boyfriend. He was so "dead" since the prior day's happenings. He didn't speak a word to anyone since they left the hospital. He just cried until he had no tears left.
"Did you put the phone on the hook like I asked you to?" he finally spoke.
"Yes, Pookie," Maureen said, smiling at his voice.
"Good, I don't want to miss any calls from the hospital."
As if it were planned, the phone rang. Mark shot up from his seat and ran to the phone to be sure he was the one to answer it.