One Week
Part Six
*//
"What are you doing here?"
Mark blinked and narrowed his eyes, making sure that he wasn't imagining the whole thing. His father was sitting on the couch, a copy of The Wall Street Journal clutched in his hands. He had apparently been scanning the headlines when Mark walked in and was now cleaning his glasses on the edge of his polo shirt. Lisa was sitting on a bar stool in the kitchen, her eyes red and puffy. She was clutching her stomach in one hand and holding a glass of water in the other, visibly shaking from the other side of the room.
"I mean…hi," Mark added quickly. He shifted his weight uncomfortably and glanced down at the floor, fully prepared for his mother to launch a verbal attack on him for keeping Lisa at his loft. Instead, Mark's mother walked over and wrapped her hands around her son, sobbing into his shoulder.
"Eva, for Christ's sake! Would you knock it off and let the boy breathe?" Mark's father grumped from the couch.
"Gene, I haven't seen him in over a year! You think he'd be able to give his mother a hug without you complaining? Stop talking about Christ! Christ had nothing to do with it. You are such a bad Jew. Oi," she muttered, wiping at her eyes.
"I'm a bad Jew because I'm not a Jew? Did I or did I not convert when I married you?"
"Then stop griping about Christ, will you!" she shouted.
"I'll gripe and embrace both sides of my religion when I want to!"
"It's good to see you, Pop," Mark shouted over his parents, finally wriggling out of Eva's death grip and shaking his father's hand. His father cuffed him on the shoulder and lit a cigarette.
"Mind if I smoke, son?" Mark shook his head and remained standing, praying silently that Roger wouldn't have one of his outbursts this morning.
"Do you want coffee, Mom? I'd offer you something else, but we're not big on breakfast around here," he added, rushing into the kitchen. He passed Lisa, who looked distraught, and gave her a sympathetic smile.
"Why are they here?" he hissed, filling up the empty coffee pot.
"I don't know Mark! I opened the door and expected Collins or Maureen and there was Mom and Dad," Lisa whispered. "This is all my fault. I never should have brought you in to this," Mark shook his head.
"Don't worry about it. Let's just try to get them out of here, and fast?"
"Coffee's fine dear," Eva called over, adjusting herself on the worn in couch. Gene coughed violently after taking a drag of his cigarette. Mark set up the coffeemaker and returned to the living room.
"So um, what are you guys doing here exactly?" Mark interrupted. Eugene and Eva Cohen weren't the type of people to just randomly stop by bright and early on a Tuesday morning. His mother at least would call a day in advance, a few days more if she had never been to the place before.
"Well, Maria's been begging me for ages to come and see her new garden, so we were on our way to Staten Island and decided to stop here first, sweetheart. You know how Dennis has been working those crazy hours at the hospital lately and she wanted us to drop by when she was sure he'd be awake," she smiled. Maria was the second youngest of his mother's four sisters. She was also the only sister besides his mother that lived in the United States. "Besides, with Galina and Sergei in Russia and Svetlana and Georgio in Spain, it seems like we're the only two left," she added sadly.
"Don't get her started, Mark. She won't shut up about your Russian side of the family," Gene joked, taking another drag of his cigarette. Eva glared and waved his comment away with her hand.
"Don't you go talking about my side of the family, when your side of the family is worse! Stubborn Jews! All of them!" Eva shouted. She had now started shouting at him in Russian. Gene sat there unfazed and ignored her. Lisa stifled a laugh from the barstool and Mark grinned. They had to admit, it was pretty pointless arguing over which side of the family was more stubborn. Both sides were Jewish; Eva's happened to be Russian and Jewish; Eugene's was a mix of Italian Catholics and an equal mix of Jewish and French.
"So we're all stubborn Jews! Give it up already!" Gene shouted back, returning to the newspaper.
"Knock it off, okay? I already have a headache," Lisa shouted over them. Eva looked put out and returned to a sitting position.
"Well missy, now whose fault is that?" Eva added, rather harshly. She lit another cigarette and was blowing the smoke out in rings. "Certainly not mine!"
"Mom, it was a mistake! Why can't you just accept that?" Lisa said, slouching down somewhat in her barstool.
"Mistake! Yes, a mistake that'll follow you around for the rest of your life, but you'll find out soon enough. How many more months now? Six?" Eva was now pacing the room, a chain of smoke following her.
"Yes," Lisa agreed.
"When?"
"Mid-July. Mama, do we have to talk about this?" Lisa complained, now rubbing her temples.
"What, you think I'm going to ignore the fact that my daughter is pregnant and shut her out of my life? I don't think so!" Eva added, now resting her hand on her forehead.
"Honestly, Ev, leave Mark alone. It's bad enough you harass him constantly with your damn phone calls, and now conning me in to driving you all the way to Manhattan thinking we were supposed to be going to Staten Island. For the love of God, tell Lisa what you came here to tell her and let's go to Maria's! The Yankees are playing tonight and I'd like to be home by then!" Gene yelled.
A door was flung open from across the hall and a sleepy Roger stumbled out, hair sticking in all directions.
"C'mon Mimi, I'll fix you some toast or something and then we can go to the doctor's. You really need to eat—JESUS CHRIST!" He stumbled and backed up against the wall when he noticed Mr. and Mrs. Cohen standing in the middle of the living room.
"Hello to you too, Roger," Eva replied. Roger blushed a deep shade of red and glanced helplessly at Mark and Lisa. Mark rolled his eyes and groaned.
"I'm not going to the doctor's today—hey—what's going on?" Mimi yawned. She had walked over to Roger and had latched on to his hand.
"Uh, Mom, Dad, this is Roger's girlfriend Mimi. Mimi, these are my parents, Gene and Eva Cohen," Mark introduced. It was way too early in the morning to be worried about first impressions, and his lack of sleep was really starting to catch up with him.
"It's nice to finally meet you, Mr. and Mrs. Cohen," Mimi smiled.
"Likewise," Eva replied, raising an eyebrow. She walked over to Roger and somewhat hesitantly threw her arms around him as well. "I'm glad that you're doing so much better. We all missed you. Your mother asks about you so much," she whispered.
"Thanks," he replied, pulling away faster than he'd have liked.
"What happened to that April? You remember her, Marky? Didn't you bring her to Scarsdale for Christmas one year, Roger? Such a lovely girl," Eva added, blowing more smoke into the room. Gene nodded, still reading the Wall Street Journal. "Your mother wishes you would call her…" Roger froze, not listening to anything else Mark's mother had to say. He felt Mimi softly rubbing his hand in an attempt to calm him. She had no right to ask him about a time that he didn't want anything to do with anymore. That wasn't who he was now. Sure, five years ago he thought he had found the perfect girl and was set to marry her—but fate certainly had other plans for him, and April wasn't involved in those plans.
"Excuse me," Roger said sullenly. He grabbed his leather jacket from the couch and bolted from the room. Mark grabbed Mimi's arm before she could run after him. "Let him go. The best thing you can do is let him go," Mark whispered. Mimi nodded, now intently staring at the floor.
"Look what you did, Ev. Can we get a move on or what? I can't believe you missed a day of work to come up here and see your sister's garden. That's what the weekends are for," Gene reprimanded. "I missed a perfectly gorgeous day to go golfing with my buddies from the force." Mark's father was a retired police officer. After spending thirty years with the Scarsdale Police Department, he retired after his first heart attack. His mother was an accountant who enjoyed her garden club and smoking like a chimney.
"You know how your father gets. The doctor recommended one round of golf every other week and look what happens? He plays up to three times a week year round. Indoors, outdoors, no matter," she cajoled, her accent slipping through a bit. "Anyway, we brought some of Lisa's things—clothes, blankets, pillows, shampoo, you get the picture. Cindy's offered to let you have her old crib and some of Rachel and Michael's old baby things for your benefit. We have everything in the car."
"Well, okay. So you're not making me come back to Scarsdale?" Lisa questioned curiously. Her parents had come all the way to Manhattan to drop of some clothes and baby things? Highly unlikely.
"I'm not forcing you to do anything. You want to come back, you come back. You don't, you don't. End of discussion. I'm not spending months arguing over this with you. People make mistakes, you learn from them, you live with them, and you get over them. We'll be off to Maria's as soon as your father and Mark help me bring everything up for you," Eva replied, walking over to Lisa and kissing her on both cheeks. "Just come home every once in awhile, okay? Bring your brother with you too, will you?" She gave Lisa a hug and placed a hand on her rounded stomach. "And you know what else?"
"What? Lisa asked, almost afraid of the answer. Her mother was acting so out of character that she didn't know what to think anymore. Even Mark, who had slipped out and returned with two boxes in his hands, followed by Gene with a disassembled crib was staring at them strangely.
"Forget about David. If you don't love him, you don't see him. You just wait and find someone that will make you happy, regardless of the baby or not. If not, I'll send you to Galina and she'll set you up with a nice Russian boy, hmm?" Eva laughed, kissing Lisa once more. Lisa smiled, some of the color finally returning to her cheeks.
"I think I'd like that," she joked.
"Oh Christ, he we go with the Russian boys again. Russian tea, Russian royalty, Russian cigarettes—"Gene trailed off, hauling up what appeared to be the last set of boxes. Eva walked over to Mark, kissed him, and gave him a final hug.
"Okay Mr. Creativity, you take good care of your sister, you hear? Don't hesitate to call home if you need anything. I'll keep checking for you in the papers, you know. Just wait, I keep telling Maria, one day you'll see his name in lights…" Eva waved to Mimi before ducking into the doorway.
"Goodbye, Mom," Mark groaned. Lisa laughed and rested her head on Mark's shoulder.
"That wasn't so bad, was it?" Lisa smiled, poking Mark in his ribs.
"Next time, make a habit of asking who it is first, sis…"
*//
Roger rested his hands on his knees, panting. He didn't know how far he had run, or how long he had been out, but what he did realize was that he was freezing. He shivered slightly, noticing that a light snow had started and was now piling up on the sidewalk. He scanned the surrounding area quickly, realizing where he had ended up. Mark was probably out searching for him, and Mimi was most likely worried sick, but he didn't care. He didn't care anymore. What Mark's mom had said about April was true—and he had fucked things up with her like he had fucked himself and everyone else up.
"Hey Lover Boy…where you been?" a familiar voice growled from the shadows. Roger looked up and noticed the Man's hooded form quickly approaching, hands shoved in his pockets.
"Nowhere," Roger added.
"Why don't you let me give you somethin' to get you somewhere, eh? What do you say? Since you're a ex valued customer…give me an even 15 bucks and we'll make it a deal, huh?"
"What do you think I am, an idiot?" Roger replied. He tried to walk away, but something held him back. For just a spilt second, Roger thought of everything smack would take away—the pain, guilt, the baby, Mimi, and Mark's constant worrying—and for some reason, that made him stay rooted in the spot he was standing in.
"10 then. Besides, you know it'll make all your problems go away…" Roger thought about it for a second. It would make all his problems go away, but then they would all come flying back ten times worse tomorrow morning.
"I don't know," Roger said. 'C'mon Davis, get your shit together. You're better than this,' he thought.
"You don't give up, do you? 5. Final standing offer. Take it or leave it," he hissed. Roger dug around in his pockets for a bit, finally pulling out a wrinkled five-dollar bill. The Man threw the bag at him, tossed the bill in his pocket, and retreated back into the shadows before Roger knew what to do with himself.
"Pleasure doing business witcha…" he whispered from the dark alleyway. Roger fingered the bag in his pocket. He could either toss it and pretend he had never been here, or use it to take all of his emotions away. Maybe if he just held it, he'd feel automatically better. After ten minutes of the same emotions running through his heavily clouded brain, he knew what he had to do. It was just one time, right? But that's how his addiction started, didn't? Just one time.
"Hey!" he shouted back into the alley.
"Keep it down, the Man only is suppose'ta roam durin' the night, hotshot…"
"You don't happen to have any spare needles, do you?"
*//
"You have no idea how good it feels to be back in my own clothes," Lisa laughed, staring longingly at her size 3 jeans. "Now only if I could fit in to those…" she sighed.
"You have no idea how good it feels to not have to share my boxers with my own sister. Talk about gross," Mark mimicked, making a face. Lisa shot him a look and threw a pillow at him from her bed. "Hey!" he grinned. He had to admit, he felt so much better knowing that his parents and Lisa weren't feuding anymore, even if his mother was acting a bit strange when he left. Mark was now lying on his side on Lisa's bed, his arm propped up under his head.
"What do you think is eating Mom? Lisa asked. She had abandoned her stack of jeans and was know folding various shirts and was now stacking them in the wooden dresser.
"No idea. I really expected her to drag you kicking and screaming back to Scarsdale," Mark laughed. He held up a bikini and winked. "Planning to go out in this anytime soon?" he teased. Lisa rolled her eyes.
"Yeah, right. Check back in three years when I'm hopefully not fat," she complained, grabbing the bikini from Mark. "Do you remember that time when you threw me into the pool and I slammed my head on the side of the pool? I thought Mom would kill you."
"God, she made such a scene. Then when you came out smiling and laughing she really started going off on me," he laughed. Lisa had crawled up next to Mark and was resting her head on a pillow.
"I've got a better one! You had to be at least 14 or 15 because I was old enough to remember it. You had the flu, and you were so pissed off because you couldn't go and see Roger's band practice that you were constantly bitching at Mom the whole day because she wouldn't let you out of bed. Grandma Elena had come over in the morning and spent the whole day cooking something in Mom's kitchen and you kept asking what it was—"
"Oh man Lisa, not this story again…"
"…and finally she came up late in the afternoon and handed you a bowl of something and told you it was vegetable soup and you ate it like you had been starved for a week. Then she pops her head back in and tells you in broken English that it was borscht and that there was a pot full of it downstairs and that's what you get for asking stupid questions! I think you spent the rest of the day and night in the bathroom you got so sick from it," Lisa laughed hysterically, tears now forming in her eyes.
"Hah, you're funny. Grandma Elena's borscht was the worst. I'm so glad Mom never ventured into that area of culinary masterpieces," he sarcastically grinned. Lisa didn't respond, so Mark looked over his shoulder at her. "You okay?" he added.
"Yeah, I guess. Just thinking," she replied, tugging at the bottom of her pajama pants. "Can I ask you something?"
"Shoot. Just not any embarrassing questions about my sex life, although there's been many conquests," he teased.
"What happened to Roger? I mean, how did he get sick and everything?" Mark flipped over and faced her. He just realized that she was the only one out of everyone that dared to ask why Roger was sick. He thought everyone knew—but then he remembered that Lisa had been absent for a good amount of Roger's life.
"When Roger moved in with me a few years back, he had formed a band with some of his friends he had met in the city—The Well Hungarians. Roger would bring home a girl every now and then. Some of them stayed for just a night, others for a few months here and there. I don't think they wanted to stick around, most of them. Roger knew this. I just had to put up with it. I could handle the girls, but I couldn't handle the drugs. I knew he had a cigarette fetish because he had smoked since we were kids. Then he moved on to the party drugs—especially coke. He was a major cokehead for a while. I told him it would kill him, but you know what he said to me?" Mark paused, expecting Lisa to answer.
"What?"
"Only the good die young, Mark. He was getting worse everyday. I waited up for him most nights, just to make sure that he wouldn't pass out or throw up all over himself. I didn't think it could get much worse than that, until I started showing up at some of the parties he went to. Not because I wanted to party, but because I wanted to keep a better eye on him. He used to get so pissed at me in those days—telling me to fuck off and that he didn't need me around. I found him one night in a corner with a bunch of his band buddies and their friends, shooting up. He had a girl sitting on his lap. She was practically whoring herself to him right in the chair."
"April?" Mark turned around and noticed Mimi standing in the doorway. She had her arms wrapped around herself. Her eyes were bloodshot and puffy. She had obviously been crying. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have been listening. It's not my business. It was a long time ago," she added, trying to reassure herself. Mark attempted to swallow the lump that had formed in his throat and nodded.
"You have a right to hear it, Mimi. He never told you?"
"No. I think if he ever did, he would be forced to realize that at one time he was a really fucked up person," Mimi laughed bitterly. Mark stood up and wrapped his arms around her, gently rubbing her back as she sobbed into his shoulder.
"It'll be okay," Mark said.
"Yeah, I know. I'm just a mess right now. I really love him so much it hurts," Mimi smiled, sitting down next to Lisa. She pulled down the covers to Lisa's bed and slid under them, propping her head up with her arm.
"I'm really sorry you guys…I shouldn't have brought it up. It's not my place—" Lisa apologized, now wiping at her own teary eyes.
"Hey, you have a right to know. It was bound to be brought up sooner or later," Mark replied. "So anyway, back to April. At first, we all thought she would be good for him, maybe settle him down a bit. We, meaning Maureen, Benny, Collins, and I didn't want to judge her on what I told them about the party. The first few months were great and then it all started going downhill. They'd stay out late, party, shoot up, and come home high and drunk off their asses," Mark paused, thinking to himself. It was hard enough living through it one time, but to retell the tale was hurting him more then he could imagine. "They both started to separate themselves from each other. Roger would go out and still party, but April would sit home with me a lot of the nights. I'd be working on some film, and she'd sit and help me edit everything all together. She actually was pretty smart, even when she partied. She knew how much to take, when to take, and what not to take it with. I got to know her better those nights when Roger was out. She wasn't a bad person, just stubborn and headstrong like Roger. She graduated from UCLA with a degree in photography, so when we'd edit things together she'd give me suggestions on what lighting to shoot in, what effects I should out, stuff like that. I got home from work one day in May of '95—at that time I was working at some film production company—and it was really late and I was exhausted. I came in and she was sitting on the couch in the dark, so I turned on the lights and started joking around with her. She told me Roger was out again and I didn't think anything of it—I didn't think. I said goodnight to her, and when she didn't say anything I shouted "Hey April," to get her attention and she turned around and smiled and said "Bye Mark. See you," just like that."
Lisa and Mimi were now leaning against each other. Mark suddenly stood up and ran into the living room. Lisa stood up and gripped Mimi's hand, pulling her up as well. The pair followed him slowly, pausing behind the couch. Mark was rummaging around in the stereo cabinet, a pile of CDs and old records now stacked on the floor.
"Mark…what are you—" Lisa interrupted. Mark held up his hand and shook his head. Mimi looked positively confused.
"Listen." he directed, pointing at the stereo.
When the night has come
And the land is dark
And the moon is the only light we see
No, I won't be afraid
No, I won't be afraid
Just as long as you stand
Stand by me
"Mark, I'm sorry. I don't get it," Mimi apologized, noting the pained expression on Mark's face.
"She set the record player so it would play this song over and over again. I woke up around 5 AM one day in May because of this song. She used to sing it all the time when we were editing together. I never paid any attention to it," Mark said softly.
Darling, darling stand by me
Oh, Stand by me
"Mark…" Lisa trailed off, resting her hand against the edge of the couch.
Stand by me, stand by me"I heard Roger screaming shortly after. He had just gotten home from the bar, because he reeked of cigarettes and beer. I rolled out of bed, wanting to scream back at him for being such an asshole and then I saw. He wasn't screaming because he was high, or because he needed a fix. He was screaming because April was dead. She had slit her wrists in the bathtub, and god there was so much blood. It was all over the place and all over Roger. I stood there and looked at him, and he wouldn't look at me, but he knew I was there. She was so pale, but still warm. I remember because I had to pry her away from him because he wouldn't let go. She probably only was dead for a few hours. I couldn't help but think that maybe if I had sat up with her until Roger had gotten home she'd still be here," Mark whispered.
All three were now crying, Mark the hardest out of all.
Stand by me, stand by me
"Maureen and I cleaned the bathroom later that day. We had Collins come over to watch Roger. It was always one of us watching him. We were so afraid that he'd hurt himself. That's when we found the note. "We've got AIDS, Roger. April." We couldn't bring ourselves to show it to him. We took him to get tested a few days later, and he turned up positive and started on AZT. After he found out, he pretty much holed up in his room and played Stand By Me over and over again at all hours of the night. He wouldn't speak to me for the longest time, not even during April's funeral. He didn't speak to me until about three weeks after she died. I was working on a script, and Roger woke up. He had walked into the kitchen to take his pills and instead of either sitting back down or going out to get a fix, he stood by the sink, watching me. I asked him if I could help him with anything and he said, "Help me, Mark. I can't do it anymore." Withdrawal was the worst. It was six and a half months of pure hell. I fought him day in and day out and I barely let him out of my sight. He must have hated me back then," Mark laughed, wiping his eyes.
If the sky we look upon
Should tumble and fall
And the mountain
Should crumble to the sea
"Roger's always been stubborn like that," Mimi whispered. She had now shifted to the couch and was curled up on it, her face buried into the cushions. "Now I know why he never told me."
"Now I know why you never wanted to come home. You had to stay…for him," Lisa smiled.
I won't cry, I won't cry
No, I won't shed a tear
Just as long as you stand
Stand by me
"Turn it off." Roger was standing in the doorway. He had a scowl on his face and brushed past them all to the bathroom and started splashing water on his face, dripping some onto the floor.
"Oh god…" Mimi trailed off. "He's high. Look at him." Roger walked back out and stood in his place and stared at them all.
"No, Mimi he's not," Mark shook his head vibrantly. He didn't want to believe it. After all, Mimi and Roger were never addicts together, so what did Mimi know?
"Why are you all staring at me?" Roger shouted. "I said turn it off Mark. Fuck!"
"Where'd you go, Roger? Just for a walk, right? Where to? The Man?" Mark taunted, closing the gap between himself and Roger in three strides.
"Stop it, Mark. He's not—" Lisa argued.
"Shut the hell up, Lisa. Not what?" Roger yelled.
"Don't fucking talk to her like that," Mark forcefully shoved him. Roger shoved him back, knocking the lamp off the coffee table in the process.
"Hey guys! We come with food!" Maureen gleefully shouted from the doorway. She pocketed her key as Collins and Benny appeared after her, both armed with a bag of something each.
"Great timing, Maureen," Mark frowned, glaring at her.
"Hey Mimi," Benny greeted. Mimi ignored her as Roger shot him a look.
"Roger, what's up with your eyes?" Mimi added. She knew that he had just shot up. She didn't want to believe it. She thought he was better than that. They were all better than that. She could feel Benny smirking at her from across the room.
"What—nothing. Lay off, Mimi," he growled, moving rather forcefully toward her. Mimi stepped back quickly and landed on Mark's foot, who took this as his cue to jump in front of her and Lisa.
"How many more times, Rog? Just another to get you through the day like last time? Empty your pockets," Mark demanded. He waited impatiently for a minute or so before repeating himself. "Now."
"Did we come at a bad time, Marky?" Maureen said. The two bags of bagels had been abandoned on the kitchen table.
"You could say that," Lisa smirked.
"No. What the hell is wrong with you guys? I just wanted to have some fun. You know, fun? Or did you forget, Mark?"
"Hey Roger, let me throw this at you. How does a baby in eight months sound? Does that sober you up enough?" Mimi spat. She had pushed herself around Mark and was standing directly in front of him.
"Whose baby? Mimi, you're pregnant? Again?" Benny laughed. Roger attempted to make a dive for him, which was intercepted by Mark and Collins, and then turned back to Mimi
"I don't…I didn't—what's he talking about?" Roger shouted at Benny. Mimi shook her head and reached for Roger's coat pocket. "
"Forget it," she scowled, still carefully searching in his pocket. Collins was posed against the wall, now softly talking to Mark. The pair kept shooting glances back and forth at Roger and shaking their heads. Benny had now sat down next to Lisa and was introducing himself, handshake and all. Apparently he was ignoring the situation in front of them.
She dropped a needle and a half empty packet fell to the floor. Roger was now staring at the ground, refusing to meet anyone's eyes.
"Happy now? I'm fucked up. There, I said it. Satisfy you enough?" Roger said bitterly. He slipped off to his bedroom before anyone could say anything.
The phone rang moments later, followed by the click of the answering machine.
"Roger, it's Mom…"*//
Whenever you're in trouble
Won't you stand by me?
Oh, stand, stand by me
A/N: "Stand By Me" belongs to Ben E. King.
I would have had this up about three days ago, but for some reason FF.net was down. Grr. Let's see, Friday night I went to see RENT for my 3rd time for my bday and it was as much fun as my first time. I'd definitely go again anytime.