Disclaimers and summary on first chapter
Notes: No action here yet, but soon. I PROMISE! Stay with me. Thank you readers/reviewers, I love you all!
Chapter 18 - I Swear That Will Be Enough -
+Mark's POV+ -2 weeks later-
I lay next to Roger on the roof of his car, staring at the sky. His radio is on, playing quietly in the background. Between us is a half- finished can of Pepsi.
"What do you want to be when you grow up, Marky?" He asks me, reaching for the can again. I really should take it when he's done, I've only drank out of it once and he's practically finishing it now.
I shrug, knowing he can't tell. "Does it matter? I've going to get shoved into some stupid college I don't want to go to anyway." He sets the can down and I pick it up and drink from it, sarcastically thanking him silently for the few drops he left behind.
"So don't go." He says. There's a silence in which I put the can back down between us. "What do you want to do, though? If you could be anything, do anything, what would it be?"
"A filmmaker. I want to make films." I say softly. I don't recall ever telling anyone that before, but this is Roger. In just a few short weeks I've found that I can tell him anything, we can do just about anything together, and all of it seems perfectly normal. He's what I've been needing my whole life.
He turns his head to look at me and I turn mine as well.
"Really? Shouldn't you carry that camera around more often, then?" He asks. "You might miss something important if you don't."
"Something inspiring."
"Yeah."
We're silent again and we both look away.
"What about you?" I ask, already knowing the answer.
"Musician." He replies, stating the obvious. "I don't really care if I'm ever popular, I just want to know I made an impression on someone. You know?"
I smile to myself. He already has.
"Yeah," I whisper. "I know."
+++
I take his suggestion to heart and bring my camera everywhere. It was foreign at first, but only three days into this new lens-ridden life it's comfortable. I film everything except my family and school, but there's not really anything inspiring there anyway. Except maybe Roger. He's my main subject, and as much as Maureen would love to be, she'll never be what he is. All he has to do is look at the camera, no, at me, and smile. Just that slight, half-smile that lets me know he knows I exist. For as long as I live I swear that will be enough.
"Will you help me with my lines this weekend, Marky? I need to rehearse for the play." Maureen asks me.
I wince. "I told Roger we'd. . ."
She pouts at me. "I never see you anymore, Marky. You're always with Roger."
I shrug. "So?"
"Don't you love me anymore?" She crosses her arms, her lips sticking out in a way I used to find adorable, then annoying and now just routine. It's a face I've seen a lot lately.
"Sure I do, Maureen, but. . ."
"You love Roger more?"
I feel myself blushing and look away. "Shut up, Maureen. Why do you say things like that? You're so weird."
She giggles. "Oh is Marky in love with Rogey?" She asks in a playful voice.
"Fuck off." I say angrily and turn away.
"Wait! Marky, I'm sorry, ok? Will you please help me?"
I roll my eyes. "Alright, I'll help you Saturday morning, ok? But then I'm going with Roger."
"Morning?" She squeaks, looking absolutely pitiful.
I groan. "Not early morning, like eleven or something. You can't possibly need more than an hour or two, do you?"
"Well. . ."
"Well that's all you're getting."
I turn to leave again.
"I'll call you." She says uncertainly to my back.
I almost feel guilty.
+++
After I help Maureen, a process that lasted far longer than the two hours I had hoped for, I call Roger to come pick me up despite much uncertainty from my parents. My dad asks if he's my boyfriend and my mom doesn't like the idea of a teenager driving me anywhere.
"At least make him come to the door, I like to meet your little friends." My mother says.
I roll my eyes. "If you call him a 'little friend' while he's here I'm never talking to any of you again."
"Big loss." Cindy whispers to my father. I don't even bother to glare at her, especially since I hear a soft chuckle from him. Instead I turn my camera over in my hands, waiting for Roger.
The doorbell rings a few minutes later and I run toward it, but Cindy beats me there. She fixes Roger with her best face-cracking grin and gestures inside the house.
"Come in! We love to meet Mark's little friends!" She says happily. This time I do glare, feeling at the same time my face reddening severely.
Roger looks at her uncertainly, smiling shyly. He comes in and I can't meet his eyes so I continue to glare at my sister who winks at me when she closes the door.
"What's your name again, dear?" My mom asks.
"Roger Davis." He tells her, holding out a hand, which she takes.
"My, you're. . .tall." She finishes, looking up at him, smiling.
He lets out a nervous laugh. "Thanks? I think."
My dad steps over and stares down at Roger, though not much, Roger is really tall.
"Where are you going?"
"A club in the next town." Roger tells him. "There's this band playing that. . ."
"A club? Like a bar?"
Roger shakes his head. "No, they don't serve alcohol."
I look at him in bewilderment, I got drunk off my ass there just a few weeks ago. Roger winks at me when my dad looks over at my mom.
"I don't like him, he's cocky." He says, as if Roger isn't standing before him.
"Oh hush, he's a dear." My mother says, smiling at Roger who returns it. She starts to push us toward the door and I know it's because she's sensing trouble from my father. I consider for a moment that it's nice of her to help me. We're almost out and I'm thinking we even managed to avoid a few homo jokes.
"Mind you're not doing any of that queer stuff in public, I don't want everyone to know my son's a faggot." My dad calls out when we're in the doorway. I cringe and Roger looks like he wants to say something, but both my mother and I shake our heads at him and he relents. My mother smiles at us one more time.
"Have fun, boys. Be home before curfew, Mark." She says.
I nod at her, for once grateful for her presence and leave with Roger. We sit in his car in silence for a while before he finally speaks up.
"Your mom's nice." He says.
"Yeah."
"But your dad. . ."
"I know. I told you."
"Yeah."
He looks over at me uncertainly. "So, what happened earlier? I thought we were gonna hang out during the day too."
I sigh. "I know. I promised Maureen I'd help her with her lines for the play and soon it was 6:00."
He laughs. "That's alright, I caught up with my vinyl. I just didn't know. . ."
"I'll call you next time."
"Don't worry about it."
"Really, I'm sorry." I feel terrible, because despite Roger's light tone, I can hear his disappointment.
"I said. . ."
"You're my best friend." I tell him, immediately wondering why. I blush and look away.
He grins and nudges me in the arm. "You're mine."
Why do I bother feeling embarrassed around him? He never gives me reason to, and I always misjudge him. Even when he kids with me, it's nothing that really bothers me in the end.
"Hey, think you can get through the night sober?" He asks mockingly.
I groan. "Don't ruin my fun."
He laughs. "Hey, you'll meet April tonight."
"Who's April?" I ask.
"My Maureen." He says.
+++
Notes Continued: That's right, we meet April next! Should be a good time for all.
Notes: No action here yet, but soon. I PROMISE! Stay with me. Thank you readers/reviewers, I love you all!
Chapter 18 - I Swear That Will Be Enough -
+Mark's POV+ -2 weeks later-
I lay next to Roger on the roof of his car, staring at the sky. His radio is on, playing quietly in the background. Between us is a half- finished can of Pepsi.
"What do you want to be when you grow up, Marky?" He asks me, reaching for the can again. I really should take it when he's done, I've only drank out of it once and he's practically finishing it now.
I shrug, knowing he can't tell. "Does it matter? I've going to get shoved into some stupid college I don't want to go to anyway." He sets the can down and I pick it up and drink from it, sarcastically thanking him silently for the few drops he left behind.
"So don't go." He says. There's a silence in which I put the can back down between us. "What do you want to do, though? If you could be anything, do anything, what would it be?"
"A filmmaker. I want to make films." I say softly. I don't recall ever telling anyone that before, but this is Roger. In just a few short weeks I've found that I can tell him anything, we can do just about anything together, and all of it seems perfectly normal. He's what I've been needing my whole life.
He turns his head to look at me and I turn mine as well.
"Really? Shouldn't you carry that camera around more often, then?" He asks. "You might miss something important if you don't."
"Something inspiring."
"Yeah."
We're silent again and we both look away.
"What about you?" I ask, already knowing the answer.
"Musician." He replies, stating the obvious. "I don't really care if I'm ever popular, I just want to know I made an impression on someone. You know?"
I smile to myself. He already has.
"Yeah," I whisper. "I know."
+++
I take his suggestion to heart and bring my camera everywhere. It was foreign at first, but only three days into this new lens-ridden life it's comfortable. I film everything except my family and school, but there's not really anything inspiring there anyway. Except maybe Roger. He's my main subject, and as much as Maureen would love to be, she'll never be what he is. All he has to do is look at the camera, no, at me, and smile. Just that slight, half-smile that lets me know he knows I exist. For as long as I live I swear that will be enough.
"Will you help me with my lines this weekend, Marky? I need to rehearse for the play." Maureen asks me.
I wince. "I told Roger we'd. . ."
She pouts at me. "I never see you anymore, Marky. You're always with Roger."
I shrug. "So?"
"Don't you love me anymore?" She crosses her arms, her lips sticking out in a way I used to find adorable, then annoying and now just routine. It's a face I've seen a lot lately.
"Sure I do, Maureen, but. . ."
"You love Roger more?"
I feel myself blushing and look away. "Shut up, Maureen. Why do you say things like that? You're so weird."
She giggles. "Oh is Marky in love with Rogey?" She asks in a playful voice.
"Fuck off." I say angrily and turn away.
"Wait! Marky, I'm sorry, ok? Will you please help me?"
I roll my eyes. "Alright, I'll help you Saturday morning, ok? But then I'm going with Roger."
"Morning?" She squeaks, looking absolutely pitiful.
I groan. "Not early morning, like eleven or something. You can't possibly need more than an hour or two, do you?"
"Well. . ."
"Well that's all you're getting."
I turn to leave again.
"I'll call you." She says uncertainly to my back.
I almost feel guilty.
+++
After I help Maureen, a process that lasted far longer than the two hours I had hoped for, I call Roger to come pick me up despite much uncertainty from my parents. My dad asks if he's my boyfriend and my mom doesn't like the idea of a teenager driving me anywhere.
"At least make him come to the door, I like to meet your little friends." My mother says.
I roll my eyes. "If you call him a 'little friend' while he's here I'm never talking to any of you again."
"Big loss." Cindy whispers to my father. I don't even bother to glare at her, especially since I hear a soft chuckle from him. Instead I turn my camera over in my hands, waiting for Roger.
The doorbell rings a few minutes later and I run toward it, but Cindy beats me there. She fixes Roger with her best face-cracking grin and gestures inside the house.
"Come in! We love to meet Mark's little friends!" She says happily. This time I do glare, feeling at the same time my face reddening severely.
Roger looks at her uncertainly, smiling shyly. He comes in and I can't meet his eyes so I continue to glare at my sister who winks at me when she closes the door.
"What's your name again, dear?" My mom asks.
"Roger Davis." He tells her, holding out a hand, which she takes.
"My, you're. . .tall." She finishes, looking up at him, smiling.
He lets out a nervous laugh. "Thanks? I think."
My dad steps over and stares down at Roger, though not much, Roger is really tall.
"Where are you going?"
"A club in the next town." Roger tells him. "There's this band playing that. . ."
"A club? Like a bar?"
Roger shakes his head. "No, they don't serve alcohol."
I look at him in bewilderment, I got drunk off my ass there just a few weeks ago. Roger winks at me when my dad looks over at my mom.
"I don't like him, he's cocky." He says, as if Roger isn't standing before him.
"Oh hush, he's a dear." My mother says, smiling at Roger who returns it. She starts to push us toward the door and I know it's because she's sensing trouble from my father. I consider for a moment that it's nice of her to help me. We're almost out and I'm thinking we even managed to avoid a few homo jokes.
"Mind you're not doing any of that queer stuff in public, I don't want everyone to know my son's a faggot." My dad calls out when we're in the doorway. I cringe and Roger looks like he wants to say something, but both my mother and I shake our heads at him and he relents. My mother smiles at us one more time.
"Have fun, boys. Be home before curfew, Mark." She says.
I nod at her, for once grateful for her presence and leave with Roger. We sit in his car in silence for a while before he finally speaks up.
"Your mom's nice." He says.
"Yeah."
"But your dad. . ."
"I know. I told you."
"Yeah."
He looks over at me uncertainly. "So, what happened earlier? I thought we were gonna hang out during the day too."
I sigh. "I know. I promised Maureen I'd help her with her lines for the play and soon it was 6:00."
He laughs. "That's alright, I caught up with my vinyl. I just didn't know. . ."
"I'll call you next time."
"Don't worry about it."
"Really, I'm sorry." I feel terrible, because despite Roger's light tone, I can hear his disappointment.
"I said. . ."
"You're my best friend." I tell him, immediately wondering why. I blush and look away.
He grins and nudges me in the arm. "You're mine."
Why do I bother feeling embarrassed around him? He never gives me reason to, and I always misjudge him. Even when he kids with me, it's nothing that really bothers me in the end.
"Hey, think you can get through the night sober?" He asks mockingly.
I groan. "Don't ruin my fun."
He laughs. "Hey, you'll meet April tonight."
"Who's April?" I ask.
"My Maureen." He says.
+++
Notes Continued: That's right, we meet April next! Should be a good time for all.