Notes: SORRY, SORRY and SORRY again! End of the school year, shitloads of
homework. I'm overworked and undersexed. Lol. And I'm also evil, you can
see my lovely attitude rubbing off in my writing. Thanks for
reading/reviewing. I'll try to update sooner next time, but I've still got
loads of shit to do. I'm sorry!! Enjoy anyway!
Chapter 56 -He's Not Everything-
Mark's POV
I lay on my bed, holding my camera and staring at the ceiling. I smile to myself, thinking of Roger, who I had spent last night with at his house. He'll be here soon, my father on business again and Cindy staying with some friends, my mom told me she wanted Roger to come over for dinner. And a lengthy interrogation, I added silently. I kept accidentally on purpose not telling him about it for a few days, but when he called last night to ask me over, my mom picked it up and invited him. He doesn't seem as concerned about it as I am. At least Cindy isn't home either.
I hear the phone ring and my mom knocks on my door.
"It's Maureen." She calls out, opening the door and handing me the phone.
"Is he coming?" She asks me, folding her arms.
I nod. "He's at work, Mom, he'll be here soon."
When she leaves I hold the phone up to my ear.
"Maureen?"
"Where were you last night?" You promised you'd be at my performance!"
Shit. Maureen had gotten a lead role in a play by a community theatre. I had promised, but when Roger called I completely forgot.
"Shit. Mo. . ."
She sniffs. "I can't believe you! You promised, Marky! You promised me!"
"Mo, I'm. . ."
"No one was there! No one was there for me!"
"I'm sorry, Mo. Really. I, I forgot."
She sniffs again. "With Roger, again?"
"Well. . ."
"You never have time for me!"
"Maureen. . ."
"You don't, Mark! You spend all your time with Roger!"
I roll my eyes. This is too much.
"He is my boyfriend, Maureen. I'm allowed to spend time with him."
"I'm your friend! We've been friends longer than you've known him, but because he suddenly pops up with his perfect hair and his gorgeous smile you just forget about me!"
"Bye, Maureen."
"No, Marky, don't hang up. I'm sorry."
I roll my eyes again. "Bye."
I press the power button and toss it on the floor. A minute later there's another knock on my door.
"What now, Mom?" I ask, annoyed, getting out of bed and opening the door. Roger raises his eyebrows.
"You're calling me 'mom', now? Well, now that's kinky."
"You're sick." I tell him, smiling despite myself.
"You're the one with the fantasies." He says, grinning. "I don't even want to ask how that one originated."
"Oh, fuck you." I say, reaching out to him. He pulls me close and lays a soft little kiss on my mouth.
"Later. Your mom was getting pissy when I got here. We should go downstairs."
I nod and take his hand and pull him downstairs with me. My mom looks up when we go in the kitchen and offers us a weak smile. Although she liked Roger when she first met him, she really hasn't seen him since and I know she's unsure about how to talk to him now. She's been in a general state of irritation all day, nervous about Roger being here.
The three of us sit down awkwardly at the table. She makes small talk with us about useless adult shit we don't care about, but we smile politely and agree with her because that's the easiest thing to do. It goes along fine for a while, all things considered, until mom asks Roger what he plans to do after high school. He takes a drink of water before he replies.
"I'm gonna be a rock star." He says proudly.
My mother can't hide her surprise. She raises her eyebrows and shoots me a look. I try to ignore her reaction.
"You're a musician?" She asks.
He nods. "Yeah. Play guitar mostly, but I do some singing too."
"Oh." She says simply. "That's nice."
The way she says it implies that she doesn't think it's very nice at all. Roger doesn't seem to notice or care about her tone or response. He drinks more water. He drinks a lot of water, I've noticed.
"Roger," She says, after dinner. "What do you plan on studying in college?"
He stares at her blankly. "College?"
This isn't exactly what she was hoping to hear. "Yes, college. What do you plan on studying?"
He laughs softly. "Not much. I'm not going."
"Why not? Don't you feel you should continue your education?"
"What for?"
Shit. Shut up, Roger. I try to tell him with my eyes, but he's not looking at me, he's staring intently at my mother.
"So you can land a decent job later?"
"I don't need college." He says softly.
"Well," She says slowly. She's not really trying to rip into him, but it's a firm belief of hers that marriage and children and a decent job, a list that 'doctor' and 'lawyer' are ranked highly on, however not 'rock star', are necessities of life and are what makes it fulfilling. "What do you plan to do, then?"
I can see Roger getting irritated. Not much, not yet. Just the subtle way he squints his eyes and in his tone.
"I told you, I'm gonna be a rock star." He shrugs. "Don't need much college for that."
My mother shoots me another look and this time instead of ignoring it I stare her down. Damn you and your fucking scrutiny, mom. I look over at Roger again. And damn you for being so hung up on your damn dream. I slouch in my chair and try to ignore their talking.
"Why are you so set on not going? Don't you think it would be a good opportunity to expand your horizons?"
Now he's upset, I can tell, but he tries to hide it.
"First of all, no, I don't. Second, I can't afford it anyway. Third, I couldn't go cause I just dropped out of high school."
I look over at him in shock and anger. "You didn't."
He gives me a sympathetic look. "I'm sorry, Mark. I can't do it again. I just wanted to get out of there so bad. The idea of another year," He shakes his head. "I can't handle it."
I cross my arms and look away. I hear him sigh and I ignore him. Angry and hurt I stare down at the floor. Roger and my mother argue on for a few more minutes about the importance of education and then my mother loses her temper on him.
"How are you supposed to take care of my son? You don't even know what's good for you!"
He glares at her. "He can take care of himself. He doesn't need me for that."
If she argues that I need someone to take care of me, I swear I'll walk out.
She looks sad. "He's young. . ."
Roger rolls his eyes. "I'm only a year older than him! How much more do you think I know?" He laughs cynically. "Apparently nothing since I'm not going to your fucking right wing college!"
My mother glares at me. Her eyes say, 'this is what you bring home to me?'. Mine say, 'it was your idea'.
"I don't appreciate your language."
"I don't appreciate your fucking judgments!" He gives me a long hard look and stands up and walks out of the house, slamming the door behind him.
My mother throws up her hands. "What was that? He didn't act like that when. . ."
Angry at her, and at myself for doing nothing to stop it, I stand up.
"Because you weren't fucking interrogating and judging him last time! Roger's different, and he's not everything you're going to like. But he's good, and he's good to me. And I love him." I start to walk to the door, hoping to catch him before he leaves. I hear my mom yell something back but I ignore her and throw open the door. I see his car pulling away. It's started to rain. I run after it, waving frantically, hoping he sees me. He does and stops the car, but doesn't get out. I run over to the passenger's side and knock on the window when I realize the door's locked. He sits still, his hands on the wheel, staring out the windshield. I knock again. This time he slowly reaches over and unlocks it, but makes no other movement. I climb in beside him, taking my glasses off and trying to wipe them clean on my wet shirt when I'm seating.
"I'm sorry." I tell him, softly. "I didn't think, well actually I knew she'd do something like that, I told you not to go."
He says nothing, but starts driving again.
"Roger?" I try. "Roger, I'm sorry, ok?"
Still nothing. I lose my patience.
"Dammit! Look at me! I said I'm sorry! What do you want?"
He looks over quickly, then back at the road. "That shit hurt, Mark. She thinks I'm not good enough for you."
"Roger. . ."
"And the worst thing is," He continues over me. "Is that you had nothing to say."
"Roger, I know I should have said something. I did, once you left, I swear, before I came out. I didn't know what to say before, though. I didn't know what to. . ."
"If my mom did that to you," He closes his eyes, shakes his head and starts again. "If someone, anyone, was ripping into you like that, I'd do something. I wouldn't sit there and fucking let you take it!"
"I'm sorry!"
"You're always fucking sorry!" He yells, the car swerving slightly.
"Roger, watch the road."
"Fuck the road."
"Killing me isn't going to solve your problem."
"What problem? I don't have any fucking problem! It's you and the rest of the world that has the fucking problems!"
"The road, Roger."
"Fuck you!"
I glare at him. "Let me out."
"It's raining."
"I can handle some fucking rain. It's better than sitting here listening to you yell in an enclosed space. Stop. Let me out."
"No."
"Don't be an ass. Stop, Roger." I put my hand on the door handle.
"No!" He says, reaching over and pulling my hand away. "You're not leaving me now."
"I don't really want to be with you right now. I hate when you get like this."
"I think I have a right to be 'like this'. You fucking don't."
"What about high school? Dropping out without telling me?"
"It's not your fucking decision, Mark! It's mine and I say I can't handle it!"
"You just ran a stop sign."
"Fuck off. It doesn't matter."
"Dammit, Roger! You know how I get in situations like that! You know I can't take pressure well! You would say something because that's how you are! You can do shit like that, you like telling people off and sticking up for shit you believe in, but I suck royally at it and I hate doing it."
"If you loved me. . ."
"I do love you! And I've told you before, I don't need this kind of drama. If you're going to spend every day second-guessing me. . ."
"What about you? I think I've got good reasons to second-guess you! You and your fucking fears and your fucking 'stigmas' and you fucking trying to break up with me because of shit I told you I could handle! Were you just looking for an excuse to get away?"
"You say you can handle it, then why should my 'fucking fears' and my 'fucking stigmas' bother you? You care a lot more than you think you do about that shit!"
"Forget it." He stops the car, reaches across me and opens the door. "Get out."
"It's raining." I mock, taking off my seatbelt.
"Just fucking get out."
I get out of the car and start walking back to my house, my hands shoved in my pockets, trying to ignore that I'm getting soaked. I don't bother to wipe away the tears I feel running down my face. It's fucking raining after all. I've only walked about a block when I hear my name being called. I turn to see Roger running toward me. He catches me and pulls me into a tight embrace and kisses my forehead.
"I'm sorry!" He says quickly. Kissing me again, this time a gentle little touch on my lips. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean any of it." He holds me tighter, kisses my hair. "I love you." He sniffs. "Jesus. Mark, I didn't mean it."
I pull away just enough so I can take his hands and look him in the eye. I blink away the tears behind my glasses.
"I'm sorry too." I say softly. "I know I should have. . ."
He shakes his head. "It's not your fault. You shouldn't have to. It's fine. I'm sorry."
I kiss him this time, pull him into another embrace.
Relationships are exhausting.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Roger tries to ignore Maureen's outburst.
"He's my friend too! And because of you I never see him!"
Roger rolls his eyes. "You see him plenty. And why is that my fault? Ever think maybe he doesn't want to see you sometimes?"
"Why wouldn't he want to see me?" She demands, folding her arms, glaring.
"Oh please. You treat him like your fucking lap dog! He'd do anything for you and you're horrible to him. . ."
"You don't treat him any better!"
I cover my ears with my hands and try to block this all out.
Roger clenches his fists. "I treat him better than that."
"Fuck you, you do not. Plus you're stupid as shit! You don't know anything! Don't you think he deserves better?"
"What, like you?"
"Anyone but you!"
"Stop it!" I find myself yelling, as much to my surprise as theirs.
"Shut the fuck up Maureen! Don't talk about him like that!" I close my eyes and try to block out their stares. "And Maureen's not like that Roger." I sigh. "Can't you both just stop it?"
They stare at me in silence. Annoyed and broken I stand up and leave. This is getting ridiculous. I hate seeing them fight more than I hate fighting with one of them. I love them more than anyone, and I want nothing more than them to be happy and get along. But neither really seems like an option.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Notes Continued: Fuck, I'm evil. Apologies again, blame my fuck job teachers. Bastards. Love you all! Thanks for reading/reviewing. Try to update sooner! ;)
Chapter 56 -He's Not Everything-
Mark's POV
I lay on my bed, holding my camera and staring at the ceiling. I smile to myself, thinking of Roger, who I had spent last night with at his house. He'll be here soon, my father on business again and Cindy staying with some friends, my mom told me she wanted Roger to come over for dinner. And a lengthy interrogation, I added silently. I kept accidentally on purpose not telling him about it for a few days, but when he called last night to ask me over, my mom picked it up and invited him. He doesn't seem as concerned about it as I am. At least Cindy isn't home either.
I hear the phone ring and my mom knocks on my door.
"It's Maureen." She calls out, opening the door and handing me the phone.
"Is he coming?" She asks me, folding her arms.
I nod. "He's at work, Mom, he'll be here soon."
When she leaves I hold the phone up to my ear.
"Maureen?"
"Where were you last night?" You promised you'd be at my performance!"
Shit. Maureen had gotten a lead role in a play by a community theatre. I had promised, but when Roger called I completely forgot.
"Shit. Mo. . ."
She sniffs. "I can't believe you! You promised, Marky! You promised me!"
"Mo, I'm. . ."
"No one was there! No one was there for me!"
"I'm sorry, Mo. Really. I, I forgot."
She sniffs again. "With Roger, again?"
"Well. . ."
"You never have time for me!"
"Maureen. . ."
"You don't, Mark! You spend all your time with Roger!"
I roll my eyes. This is too much.
"He is my boyfriend, Maureen. I'm allowed to spend time with him."
"I'm your friend! We've been friends longer than you've known him, but because he suddenly pops up with his perfect hair and his gorgeous smile you just forget about me!"
"Bye, Maureen."
"No, Marky, don't hang up. I'm sorry."
I roll my eyes again. "Bye."
I press the power button and toss it on the floor. A minute later there's another knock on my door.
"What now, Mom?" I ask, annoyed, getting out of bed and opening the door. Roger raises his eyebrows.
"You're calling me 'mom', now? Well, now that's kinky."
"You're sick." I tell him, smiling despite myself.
"You're the one with the fantasies." He says, grinning. "I don't even want to ask how that one originated."
"Oh, fuck you." I say, reaching out to him. He pulls me close and lays a soft little kiss on my mouth.
"Later. Your mom was getting pissy when I got here. We should go downstairs."
I nod and take his hand and pull him downstairs with me. My mom looks up when we go in the kitchen and offers us a weak smile. Although she liked Roger when she first met him, she really hasn't seen him since and I know she's unsure about how to talk to him now. She's been in a general state of irritation all day, nervous about Roger being here.
The three of us sit down awkwardly at the table. She makes small talk with us about useless adult shit we don't care about, but we smile politely and agree with her because that's the easiest thing to do. It goes along fine for a while, all things considered, until mom asks Roger what he plans to do after high school. He takes a drink of water before he replies.
"I'm gonna be a rock star." He says proudly.
My mother can't hide her surprise. She raises her eyebrows and shoots me a look. I try to ignore her reaction.
"You're a musician?" She asks.
He nods. "Yeah. Play guitar mostly, but I do some singing too."
"Oh." She says simply. "That's nice."
The way she says it implies that she doesn't think it's very nice at all. Roger doesn't seem to notice or care about her tone or response. He drinks more water. He drinks a lot of water, I've noticed.
"Roger," She says, after dinner. "What do you plan on studying in college?"
He stares at her blankly. "College?"
This isn't exactly what she was hoping to hear. "Yes, college. What do you plan on studying?"
He laughs softly. "Not much. I'm not going."
"Why not? Don't you feel you should continue your education?"
"What for?"
Shit. Shut up, Roger. I try to tell him with my eyes, but he's not looking at me, he's staring intently at my mother.
"So you can land a decent job later?"
"I don't need college." He says softly.
"Well," She says slowly. She's not really trying to rip into him, but it's a firm belief of hers that marriage and children and a decent job, a list that 'doctor' and 'lawyer' are ranked highly on, however not 'rock star', are necessities of life and are what makes it fulfilling. "What do you plan to do, then?"
I can see Roger getting irritated. Not much, not yet. Just the subtle way he squints his eyes and in his tone.
"I told you, I'm gonna be a rock star." He shrugs. "Don't need much college for that."
My mother shoots me another look and this time instead of ignoring it I stare her down. Damn you and your fucking scrutiny, mom. I look over at Roger again. And damn you for being so hung up on your damn dream. I slouch in my chair and try to ignore their talking.
"Why are you so set on not going? Don't you think it would be a good opportunity to expand your horizons?"
Now he's upset, I can tell, but he tries to hide it.
"First of all, no, I don't. Second, I can't afford it anyway. Third, I couldn't go cause I just dropped out of high school."
I look over at him in shock and anger. "You didn't."
He gives me a sympathetic look. "I'm sorry, Mark. I can't do it again. I just wanted to get out of there so bad. The idea of another year," He shakes his head. "I can't handle it."
I cross my arms and look away. I hear him sigh and I ignore him. Angry and hurt I stare down at the floor. Roger and my mother argue on for a few more minutes about the importance of education and then my mother loses her temper on him.
"How are you supposed to take care of my son? You don't even know what's good for you!"
He glares at her. "He can take care of himself. He doesn't need me for that."
If she argues that I need someone to take care of me, I swear I'll walk out.
She looks sad. "He's young. . ."
Roger rolls his eyes. "I'm only a year older than him! How much more do you think I know?" He laughs cynically. "Apparently nothing since I'm not going to your fucking right wing college!"
My mother glares at me. Her eyes say, 'this is what you bring home to me?'. Mine say, 'it was your idea'.
"I don't appreciate your language."
"I don't appreciate your fucking judgments!" He gives me a long hard look and stands up and walks out of the house, slamming the door behind him.
My mother throws up her hands. "What was that? He didn't act like that when. . ."
Angry at her, and at myself for doing nothing to stop it, I stand up.
"Because you weren't fucking interrogating and judging him last time! Roger's different, and he's not everything you're going to like. But he's good, and he's good to me. And I love him." I start to walk to the door, hoping to catch him before he leaves. I hear my mom yell something back but I ignore her and throw open the door. I see his car pulling away. It's started to rain. I run after it, waving frantically, hoping he sees me. He does and stops the car, but doesn't get out. I run over to the passenger's side and knock on the window when I realize the door's locked. He sits still, his hands on the wheel, staring out the windshield. I knock again. This time he slowly reaches over and unlocks it, but makes no other movement. I climb in beside him, taking my glasses off and trying to wipe them clean on my wet shirt when I'm seating.
"I'm sorry." I tell him, softly. "I didn't think, well actually I knew she'd do something like that, I told you not to go."
He says nothing, but starts driving again.
"Roger?" I try. "Roger, I'm sorry, ok?"
Still nothing. I lose my patience.
"Dammit! Look at me! I said I'm sorry! What do you want?"
He looks over quickly, then back at the road. "That shit hurt, Mark. She thinks I'm not good enough for you."
"Roger. . ."
"And the worst thing is," He continues over me. "Is that you had nothing to say."
"Roger, I know I should have said something. I did, once you left, I swear, before I came out. I didn't know what to say before, though. I didn't know what to. . ."
"If my mom did that to you," He closes his eyes, shakes his head and starts again. "If someone, anyone, was ripping into you like that, I'd do something. I wouldn't sit there and fucking let you take it!"
"I'm sorry!"
"You're always fucking sorry!" He yells, the car swerving slightly.
"Roger, watch the road."
"Fuck the road."
"Killing me isn't going to solve your problem."
"What problem? I don't have any fucking problem! It's you and the rest of the world that has the fucking problems!"
"The road, Roger."
"Fuck you!"
I glare at him. "Let me out."
"It's raining."
"I can handle some fucking rain. It's better than sitting here listening to you yell in an enclosed space. Stop. Let me out."
"No."
"Don't be an ass. Stop, Roger." I put my hand on the door handle.
"No!" He says, reaching over and pulling my hand away. "You're not leaving me now."
"I don't really want to be with you right now. I hate when you get like this."
"I think I have a right to be 'like this'. You fucking don't."
"What about high school? Dropping out without telling me?"
"It's not your fucking decision, Mark! It's mine and I say I can't handle it!"
"You just ran a stop sign."
"Fuck off. It doesn't matter."
"Dammit, Roger! You know how I get in situations like that! You know I can't take pressure well! You would say something because that's how you are! You can do shit like that, you like telling people off and sticking up for shit you believe in, but I suck royally at it and I hate doing it."
"If you loved me. . ."
"I do love you! And I've told you before, I don't need this kind of drama. If you're going to spend every day second-guessing me. . ."
"What about you? I think I've got good reasons to second-guess you! You and your fucking fears and your fucking 'stigmas' and you fucking trying to break up with me because of shit I told you I could handle! Were you just looking for an excuse to get away?"
"You say you can handle it, then why should my 'fucking fears' and my 'fucking stigmas' bother you? You care a lot more than you think you do about that shit!"
"Forget it." He stops the car, reaches across me and opens the door. "Get out."
"It's raining." I mock, taking off my seatbelt.
"Just fucking get out."
I get out of the car and start walking back to my house, my hands shoved in my pockets, trying to ignore that I'm getting soaked. I don't bother to wipe away the tears I feel running down my face. It's fucking raining after all. I've only walked about a block when I hear my name being called. I turn to see Roger running toward me. He catches me and pulls me into a tight embrace and kisses my forehead.
"I'm sorry!" He says quickly. Kissing me again, this time a gentle little touch on my lips. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean any of it." He holds me tighter, kisses my hair. "I love you." He sniffs. "Jesus. Mark, I didn't mean it."
I pull away just enough so I can take his hands and look him in the eye. I blink away the tears behind my glasses.
"I'm sorry too." I say softly. "I know I should have. . ."
He shakes his head. "It's not your fault. You shouldn't have to. It's fine. I'm sorry."
I kiss him this time, pull him into another embrace.
Relationships are exhausting.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Roger tries to ignore Maureen's outburst.
"He's my friend too! And because of you I never see him!"
Roger rolls his eyes. "You see him plenty. And why is that my fault? Ever think maybe he doesn't want to see you sometimes?"
"Why wouldn't he want to see me?" She demands, folding her arms, glaring.
"Oh please. You treat him like your fucking lap dog! He'd do anything for you and you're horrible to him. . ."
"You don't treat him any better!"
I cover my ears with my hands and try to block this all out.
Roger clenches his fists. "I treat him better than that."
"Fuck you, you do not. Plus you're stupid as shit! You don't know anything! Don't you think he deserves better?"
"What, like you?"
"Anyone but you!"
"Stop it!" I find myself yelling, as much to my surprise as theirs.
"Shut the fuck up Maureen! Don't talk about him like that!" I close my eyes and try to block out their stares. "And Maureen's not like that Roger." I sigh. "Can't you both just stop it?"
They stare at me in silence. Annoyed and broken I stand up and leave. This is getting ridiculous. I hate seeing them fight more than I hate fighting with one of them. I love them more than anyone, and I want nothing more than them to be happy and get along. But neither really seems like an option.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Notes Continued: Fuck, I'm evil. Apologies again, blame my fuck job teachers. Bastards. Love you all! Thanks for reading/reviewing. Try to update sooner! ;)