Disclaimers and summary on first chapter
Notes: A different kind of 'graphic' in this chappie. More along the lines of abuse. I warn, I warn.
Oh yeah, and just like any other time we are tutoring Roger, it's all relative to what I'm learning in school at the time. The big test on WWII isn't a fantasy. It's real, and it's tomorrow. Save me.
Chapter 48 -Roger's Not The Type-
+Mark's POV+ (a couple weeks later)
I sit restlessly on the floor in Maureen's room, a history book open on my lap. Maureen is struggling to explain to Roger the fundamentals of WWII. Unfortunately, all he's grasped so far is that Hitler was a part of it.
"Alright, so you get that Hitler basically took over Germany and wanted to, like, rule the world or something?"
Roger nods and yawns. "Yeah."
"Ok. Now do you understand what I meant about the whole 'master race' thing?"
He shrugs. "Can you say it again?"
She rolls her eyes. "You have to be the densest person in the world!"
"Maureen. . ." I warn her.
"Isn't Hitler that guy that killed all the Jewish people?" Roger asks thoughtfully.
She gives him a hopeful look. "Yes."
"Mark's Jewish. Does he want to kill Mark?"
She groans. "He's dead, Roger. He can't kill Mark."
"Would he?"
I throw a pillow at him. "No one's gonna kill me. Will you concentrate?"
He gives me an apologetic look. We're trying to help him cram for an important history test he has tomorrow, but his attention span has been waning again. He seems distracted somehow, more so than usual. I haven't seen him in awhile outside of school. He's either been working or just 'busy'. If I didn't know him better I'd think he was avoiding me. But Roger's not the type to avoid someone. If he had a problem with me he'd just come right out and say it.
Maureen continues her less than profound description of Hitler's antics and then proceeds to talk about the America's involvement, making sure Roger knows she was against it.
"What about Pearl Harbor though?" He asks. "Isn't that a good reason for a war or whatever?"
"You know about Pearl Harbor?" She asks, incredulous.
He looks offended. "I'm not an idiot, Maureen. I know some stuff."
Maureen almost looks sorry. "Well, I know, but. . . well you don't know a lot of school stuff. So it's kind of weird when you just come out and say something like that."
He shrugs and runs his finger over the lacing on his shoe.
Something is bothering him. I can tell by the way he snapped at Maureen. They usually get along, unless I cut plans with Maureen to be with Roger, but there's something different in the way he's acting toward her tonight. And the same thing with me. He hasn't been nearly as affectionate as usual. Normally he's pulling me into the bathroom at school at odd moments to make out or we spend at least some time together after school, but there hasn't been any of that for a few days. Even today when he pulled up in front of Maureen's house and I went out to meet him, the way he kissed me was agonizingly distant. He just wasn't there.
He looks up at Maureen's clock and his eyes widen slightly.
"Shit, guys. I gotta go." He stands up apologetically.
"Where are you going?" I ask him.
"Uh, work. I have to work."
"Roger, what is going on with you? You used to work one maybe two days a week. Now you're there every night?" I give him a hard look. "Where are you really going?"
"Home." He glares at me. "I've gotta go." He says again.
Maureen is watching the two of us in silence. I grab his arm and lead him into the hallway.
"What is it? Huh? What has been wrong with you recently?"
He pulls his arm away. "Nothing. I'm fine. Totally fine." He starts to leave again. I grab the wrist on his other hand. To my surprise he cries out in pain. Immediately I let go and step backwards. He turns around to face me, holding his arm.
"Are you ok?" I ask him, looking at his arm.
"Fine, fine. Just great."
"Roger. . ."
"I'm fine, Mark!"
"Let me see your arm."
"No."
"Roger, what are you hiding?"
"Nothing, I just. . ."
I reach out, surprising both of us and grab a hold of his wrist. Again he howls with pain and I push up the sleeves of his shirt and his coat. A series of ugly bruises runs along his wrist.
"Where is this from?" I ask him, my voice quiet.
"Nowhere." He says quickly, taking his arm back and pushing his sleeves down. "It doesn't matter."
I watch him go, hurrying down the stairs and toward the front door. He doesn't look back. Sighing heavily, I go back into Maureen's room.
"What was that about?" She asks me.
I decide not to tell her what I saw. If Roger won't tell me I shouldn't say anything to Maureen. I shrug.
"I don't know. I think something's wrong with him."
She snorts and picks up a bottle of nail polish. "Well something's definitely wrong with him."
I glare at her. "What's that supposed to mean?"
She shrugs.
I watch her paint her nails in silence.
"What are you going to do after summer?" She asks.
"What do you mean?"
"Well, he's graduating, hopefully, in May isn't he?"
To be honest, I wasn't thinking much about it. "Well, I guess he is, but. . ."
"He's not like, going to college, right?" She looks thoughtful. "Who'd take him?"
"Maureen, shut up."
"I'm just saying. . ."
"He's not stupid, Maureen. He just doesn't try hard in school. He's gotten better though, a lot better. Haven't you noticed?"
"No, not really. I don't lust after him with drool hanging down to my chest like you do."
"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"
"You don't have time for me anymore!"
I throw my arms up. "I'm here now, aren't I?"
"So I can help Roger study cause I'm good at history! Why are you still here, Marky? Aren't you gonna run after your boyfriend?"
"Dammit Maureen! Can you just stop it?"
She gives me a long look. "You're different, Marky. He changed you. I don't know if I like it."
"You don't think I'm better off now that I used to be?"
She shakes her head. "We never talk anymore. I don't feel close to you."
I roll my eyes. "What, you miss having someone to unload your shit on? Cause that's what you did, Maureen. We never 'talked'! It was you telling me how horrible your life was and. . ."
"Well, fine!" She says, standing up, tears in her eyes. "I thought you were my friend! I thought you cared about me, and I wouldn't have told you any of that stuff if I had known you didn't care!" She kicks my backpack toward me. "Just get out!"
I stare at it for a moment, then look back up at her. Beautiful, of course, with her lovely eyes full of tears.
"Mo, look. . ."
"Go away, Mark."
"No, Maureen, listen. I'm sorry. I'm sorry, ok?" I step toward her hesitantly. Touch her arm. She wraps her arms around herself and looks away.
"I didn't mean what I said. I do care about you, I don't mind listening to you." I lay my hands on her upper arms, turn her to face me. "But don't say those things about Roger, ok? Honestly, Mo. I love you, you're my best friend, but I love Roger too. I don't like watching you two fight."
She bites her lip. "I'm sorry too." She whispers, barely audible. Probably cost her a lot to say it. I pull her into a hug, let her cry on my shoulder for a minute.
"I'm gonna go though, ok? I know Roger's not working and something's up with him. I'm gonna go to his house, see if he's there or what."
She nods. "Be careful."
I give her a funny look.
"Well, it's dark out! And you're gonna be walking, so be careful!"
I roll my eyes. "Thanks, Mo. I think."
I pick up my backpack and set out to follow Roger.
+++
There's a car I've never seen before outside of his house. I walk around it hesitantly, giving it the once over, and continue on to his door. Before I knock I hear voices from inside.
"You I don't mean any of that stuff, Linda. I just get angry. I get crazy when I'm angry."
"I know, I know."
"That kid doesn't get it. I swear to God if he tries to punch me again I'm going to put him in the hospital."
I feel something tighten in my stomach.
"Don't say that."
"Say what? I've been plenty lenient with him. He used to be an ok kid. But now he's talking back, he's trying to hit me? What'd you do to him?"
"I didn't do anything. That's just the way he is. Roger can be difficult."
"Kids shouldn't be 'difficult'. They should do what you tell 'em too."
I hear their voices die away and cautiously I knock. I hear someone coming to the door. Roger's mom looks down at me. She gives me a tired, weary smile. There's a bruise on her left cheek.
"Hello, dear. Haven't seen you for a while. I'll get Roger. I'm sure he'll be glad to see you."
Not likely, I think. A few moments later Roger appears on the stairs and hurries over to the door. He quickly closes it as much as possible while still being able to talk to me.
"Mark, you shouldn't be here." He says quietly.
"Roger, look. . ."
"No. Leave. Go now. Please." He begs, casting a worried glance over his shoulder.
"Roger, what's going on?"
"It doesn't matter. Look I'll see you in school tomorrow, ok? Thanks for the study help, it was great really, I'll be fine." His voice is low, hurried, with a slight tremble. He keeps glancing backwards.
"Who's at the door?" I hear.
Roger flinches.
"A friend of Roger's."
"It's almost 11! Bad enough he gets home later than I told him too, but now he's got friends dropping by?" I hear someone getting up.
"Please, Mark, go!" Roger begs me. He moves to close the door but I push against it and he stops.
"What is it, Rog? Why can't I come in?"
"Go!" He pushes the door closed completely.
"Who's that?"
"No one, just a friend."
"It's 11 o'clock! It's a school night!"
"I know. That's why he's going." Roger emphasizes the 'going', knowing I'm probably still out here. I don't move.
"Why are your friends coming over so late? And tell me again why you were late."
"We were studying, I lost track of time."
"Studying?" He snorts. "What were you really doing? Drinking? Shooting up? Fucking some girl?" Another snort. "Or some guy?"
"Studying." Roger says again, his voice firm.
"Is that punk still out there?"
"No, he's gone."
"Get out of the way." I hear Roger being pushed to the side and then move back. I hear a crack as skin hits skin.
"Don't you come at me. I have half a mind to knock you out completely."
The door is flung open and I try quickly to make it look like I was leaving.
"Hey, get back here."
I stop and turn back slowly.
"Who are you?"
"He's no one. It doesn't matter. Just let him go." Roger pleads with his father.
"Don't tell me what to do. Answer me kid."
"Mark." I say stupidly. "I'm Mark."
"Who the hell is 'Mark'?"
"I'm, uh," Roger is frantically shaking his head behind his father's back, mouthing 'no'. Stupidly, I ignore him. "I'm Roger's boyfriend."
Roger falls against the wall, his body going completely limp. His father stares at me in silence.
"You're what?"
"Friend. I'm his friend."
"I heard you right the first time I think." He grabs my arm and pulls me inside, and grabs Roger's arm as well. He pulls us up in front of Roger's mother.
"Did you know about this? That my son's a queer?"
His mom nods slowly. "Yes, I did. I don't understand what you're so upset about."
He pushes me away. I see his grip on Roger's arm tighten. It's the arm with the already sore wrist.
"Let him go, you're going to hurt him!" His mother yells, taking a step toward them. I wince and back away when he hits her. Roger pulls out of his father's grip and attacks him, attempting to take him down. He manages two good hits before his father grabs his sore arm and twists the wrist behind his back. Roger lets out an alien sounding scream of pain. He looks over at me, his eyes blurry with tears.
"Get out, Mark. Just go. Please." He begs me one last time.
I don't look back.
I run.
+++
Notes Continued: aha! Perhaps a real cliffhanger? Lol. Poor Roger. I love him, so I torment him.
Notes: A different kind of 'graphic' in this chappie. More along the lines of abuse. I warn, I warn.
Oh yeah, and just like any other time we are tutoring Roger, it's all relative to what I'm learning in school at the time. The big test on WWII isn't a fantasy. It's real, and it's tomorrow. Save me.
Chapter 48 -Roger's Not The Type-
+Mark's POV+ (a couple weeks later)
I sit restlessly on the floor in Maureen's room, a history book open on my lap. Maureen is struggling to explain to Roger the fundamentals of WWII. Unfortunately, all he's grasped so far is that Hitler was a part of it.
"Alright, so you get that Hitler basically took over Germany and wanted to, like, rule the world or something?"
Roger nods and yawns. "Yeah."
"Ok. Now do you understand what I meant about the whole 'master race' thing?"
He shrugs. "Can you say it again?"
She rolls her eyes. "You have to be the densest person in the world!"
"Maureen. . ." I warn her.
"Isn't Hitler that guy that killed all the Jewish people?" Roger asks thoughtfully.
She gives him a hopeful look. "Yes."
"Mark's Jewish. Does he want to kill Mark?"
She groans. "He's dead, Roger. He can't kill Mark."
"Would he?"
I throw a pillow at him. "No one's gonna kill me. Will you concentrate?"
He gives me an apologetic look. We're trying to help him cram for an important history test he has tomorrow, but his attention span has been waning again. He seems distracted somehow, more so than usual. I haven't seen him in awhile outside of school. He's either been working or just 'busy'. If I didn't know him better I'd think he was avoiding me. But Roger's not the type to avoid someone. If he had a problem with me he'd just come right out and say it.
Maureen continues her less than profound description of Hitler's antics and then proceeds to talk about the America's involvement, making sure Roger knows she was against it.
"What about Pearl Harbor though?" He asks. "Isn't that a good reason for a war or whatever?"
"You know about Pearl Harbor?" She asks, incredulous.
He looks offended. "I'm not an idiot, Maureen. I know some stuff."
Maureen almost looks sorry. "Well, I know, but. . . well you don't know a lot of school stuff. So it's kind of weird when you just come out and say something like that."
He shrugs and runs his finger over the lacing on his shoe.
Something is bothering him. I can tell by the way he snapped at Maureen. They usually get along, unless I cut plans with Maureen to be with Roger, but there's something different in the way he's acting toward her tonight. And the same thing with me. He hasn't been nearly as affectionate as usual. Normally he's pulling me into the bathroom at school at odd moments to make out or we spend at least some time together after school, but there hasn't been any of that for a few days. Even today when he pulled up in front of Maureen's house and I went out to meet him, the way he kissed me was agonizingly distant. He just wasn't there.
He looks up at Maureen's clock and his eyes widen slightly.
"Shit, guys. I gotta go." He stands up apologetically.
"Where are you going?" I ask him.
"Uh, work. I have to work."
"Roger, what is going on with you? You used to work one maybe two days a week. Now you're there every night?" I give him a hard look. "Where are you really going?"
"Home." He glares at me. "I've gotta go." He says again.
Maureen is watching the two of us in silence. I grab his arm and lead him into the hallway.
"What is it? Huh? What has been wrong with you recently?"
He pulls his arm away. "Nothing. I'm fine. Totally fine." He starts to leave again. I grab the wrist on his other hand. To my surprise he cries out in pain. Immediately I let go and step backwards. He turns around to face me, holding his arm.
"Are you ok?" I ask him, looking at his arm.
"Fine, fine. Just great."
"Roger. . ."
"I'm fine, Mark!"
"Let me see your arm."
"No."
"Roger, what are you hiding?"
"Nothing, I just. . ."
I reach out, surprising both of us and grab a hold of his wrist. Again he howls with pain and I push up the sleeves of his shirt and his coat. A series of ugly bruises runs along his wrist.
"Where is this from?" I ask him, my voice quiet.
"Nowhere." He says quickly, taking his arm back and pushing his sleeves down. "It doesn't matter."
I watch him go, hurrying down the stairs and toward the front door. He doesn't look back. Sighing heavily, I go back into Maureen's room.
"What was that about?" She asks me.
I decide not to tell her what I saw. If Roger won't tell me I shouldn't say anything to Maureen. I shrug.
"I don't know. I think something's wrong with him."
She snorts and picks up a bottle of nail polish. "Well something's definitely wrong with him."
I glare at her. "What's that supposed to mean?"
She shrugs.
I watch her paint her nails in silence.
"What are you going to do after summer?" She asks.
"What do you mean?"
"Well, he's graduating, hopefully, in May isn't he?"
To be honest, I wasn't thinking much about it. "Well, I guess he is, but. . ."
"He's not like, going to college, right?" She looks thoughtful. "Who'd take him?"
"Maureen, shut up."
"I'm just saying. . ."
"He's not stupid, Maureen. He just doesn't try hard in school. He's gotten better though, a lot better. Haven't you noticed?"
"No, not really. I don't lust after him with drool hanging down to my chest like you do."
"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"
"You don't have time for me anymore!"
I throw my arms up. "I'm here now, aren't I?"
"So I can help Roger study cause I'm good at history! Why are you still here, Marky? Aren't you gonna run after your boyfriend?"
"Dammit Maureen! Can you just stop it?"
She gives me a long look. "You're different, Marky. He changed you. I don't know if I like it."
"You don't think I'm better off now that I used to be?"
She shakes her head. "We never talk anymore. I don't feel close to you."
I roll my eyes. "What, you miss having someone to unload your shit on? Cause that's what you did, Maureen. We never 'talked'! It was you telling me how horrible your life was and. . ."
"Well, fine!" She says, standing up, tears in her eyes. "I thought you were my friend! I thought you cared about me, and I wouldn't have told you any of that stuff if I had known you didn't care!" She kicks my backpack toward me. "Just get out!"
I stare at it for a moment, then look back up at her. Beautiful, of course, with her lovely eyes full of tears.
"Mo, look. . ."
"Go away, Mark."
"No, Maureen, listen. I'm sorry. I'm sorry, ok?" I step toward her hesitantly. Touch her arm. She wraps her arms around herself and looks away.
"I didn't mean what I said. I do care about you, I don't mind listening to you." I lay my hands on her upper arms, turn her to face me. "But don't say those things about Roger, ok? Honestly, Mo. I love you, you're my best friend, but I love Roger too. I don't like watching you two fight."
She bites her lip. "I'm sorry too." She whispers, barely audible. Probably cost her a lot to say it. I pull her into a hug, let her cry on my shoulder for a minute.
"I'm gonna go though, ok? I know Roger's not working and something's up with him. I'm gonna go to his house, see if he's there or what."
She nods. "Be careful."
I give her a funny look.
"Well, it's dark out! And you're gonna be walking, so be careful!"
I roll my eyes. "Thanks, Mo. I think."
I pick up my backpack and set out to follow Roger.
+++
There's a car I've never seen before outside of his house. I walk around it hesitantly, giving it the once over, and continue on to his door. Before I knock I hear voices from inside.
"You I don't mean any of that stuff, Linda. I just get angry. I get crazy when I'm angry."
"I know, I know."
"That kid doesn't get it. I swear to God if he tries to punch me again I'm going to put him in the hospital."
I feel something tighten in my stomach.
"Don't say that."
"Say what? I've been plenty lenient with him. He used to be an ok kid. But now he's talking back, he's trying to hit me? What'd you do to him?"
"I didn't do anything. That's just the way he is. Roger can be difficult."
"Kids shouldn't be 'difficult'. They should do what you tell 'em too."
I hear their voices die away and cautiously I knock. I hear someone coming to the door. Roger's mom looks down at me. She gives me a tired, weary smile. There's a bruise on her left cheek.
"Hello, dear. Haven't seen you for a while. I'll get Roger. I'm sure he'll be glad to see you."
Not likely, I think. A few moments later Roger appears on the stairs and hurries over to the door. He quickly closes it as much as possible while still being able to talk to me.
"Mark, you shouldn't be here." He says quietly.
"Roger, look. . ."
"No. Leave. Go now. Please." He begs, casting a worried glance over his shoulder.
"Roger, what's going on?"
"It doesn't matter. Look I'll see you in school tomorrow, ok? Thanks for the study help, it was great really, I'll be fine." His voice is low, hurried, with a slight tremble. He keeps glancing backwards.
"Who's at the door?" I hear.
Roger flinches.
"A friend of Roger's."
"It's almost 11! Bad enough he gets home later than I told him too, but now he's got friends dropping by?" I hear someone getting up.
"Please, Mark, go!" Roger begs me. He moves to close the door but I push against it and he stops.
"What is it, Rog? Why can't I come in?"
"Go!" He pushes the door closed completely.
"Who's that?"
"No one, just a friend."
"It's 11 o'clock! It's a school night!"
"I know. That's why he's going." Roger emphasizes the 'going', knowing I'm probably still out here. I don't move.
"Why are your friends coming over so late? And tell me again why you were late."
"We were studying, I lost track of time."
"Studying?" He snorts. "What were you really doing? Drinking? Shooting up? Fucking some girl?" Another snort. "Or some guy?"
"Studying." Roger says again, his voice firm.
"Is that punk still out there?"
"No, he's gone."
"Get out of the way." I hear Roger being pushed to the side and then move back. I hear a crack as skin hits skin.
"Don't you come at me. I have half a mind to knock you out completely."
The door is flung open and I try quickly to make it look like I was leaving.
"Hey, get back here."
I stop and turn back slowly.
"Who are you?"
"He's no one. It doesn't matter. Just let him go." Roger pleads with his father.
"Don't tell me what to do. Answer me kid."
"Mark." I say stupidly. "I'm Mark."
"Who the hell is 'Mark'?"
"I'm, uh," Roger is frantically shaking his head behind his father's back, mouthing 'no'. Stupidly, I ignore him. "I'm Roger's boyfriend."
Roger falls against the wall, his body going completely limp. His father stares at me in silence.
"You're what?"
"Friend. I'm his friend."
"I heard you right the first time I think." He grabs my arm and pulls me inside, and grabs Roger's arm as well. He pulls us up in front of Roger's mother.
"Did you know about this? That my son's a queer?"
His mom nods slowly. "Yes, I did. I don't understand what you're so upset about."
He pushes me away. I see his grip on Roger's arm tighten. It's the arm with the already sore wrist.
"Let him go, you're going to hurt him!" His mother yells, taking a step toward them. I wince and back away when he hits her. Roger pulls out of his father's grip and attacks him, attempting to take him down. He manages two good hits before his father grabs his sore arm and twists the wrist behind his back. Roger lets out an alien sounding scream of pain. He looks over at me, his eyes blurry with tears.
"Get out, Mark. Just go. Please." He begs me one last time.
I don't look back.
I run.
+++
Notes Continued: aha! Perhaps a real cliffhanger? Lol. Poor Roger. I love him, so I torment him.