Chapter 17

Mark awoke to the sounds and smells of breakfast streaming in his room from downstairs. He rolled over and fell onto the ground. Damn the small bed. He stood up drowsily and picked up his glasses from his bedside table, knocking the small lamp over in the process. He carefully shoved his glasses on his face and pushed open the door, stumbling out and yawning. He wandered down the stairs down into the kitchen and saw his mother stacking plastic containers full of food on top of each other.

"Hey mom."

"Good morning, sweetheart," she smiled, kissing him on the forehead. "How did you sleep?"

Mark plopped down on a chair in front of the kitchen table.

"Fine," he sighed. "Really well, actually. What time is it?"

"Almost one," Mrs. Cohen laughed.

One. Mark hadn't slept that late in what seemed like a very long time. Since all the trouble with Maureen and Roger had started. At the loft he had been having serious trouble sleeping well, but when he escaped to drug and girlfriend-free Scarsdale, he slept like a baby.

Mrs. Cohen placed a plate of food in front of Mark and patted his head.

"Thanks."

"You're welcome. I packed up some food that you can take home with you, honey. I don't want you to disappear." She motioned towards the Tupperware containers. She put a large glass of orange juice by Mark's plate and sat down across from him with her own coffee.

"Thanks, mom," he spoke through a mouthful of food.

"Swallow first, Mark. Do you think you'll stay the day with us?"

Mark swallowed and thought for a moment. "Sure. But not too late, I want to get home to Maureen."

Mrs. Cohen stiffened at the mention of Maureen and forced a smile. "All right."

"Mom, don't be like that. So she's not Jewish, it's not the end of the world!" he laughed.

"I know, but listen: I put Lisa Katz's phone number on your dresser. Maybe you can call her and get together with her for coffee one day! Wouldn't that be nice?"

"No…" he whined. "I don't want to go out for coffee with Lisa Katz. I haven't talked to her since, like, the ninth grade."

"Well, you do as you choose. Just remember though, if you keep dating Maureen, you're out of the will," she grinned.

"Sure, mom," Mark smiled. He took a gulp of his orange juice and pushed his empty plate away. "That was good."

"Of course it was. I made it."

"Where'd dad go?"

"For a walk. You know, to help his knee. Could you look out the window at all the snow? He's the most stubborn man ever. Leave it to him to go for a walk in a snowstorm."

Mark peered out the window behind his mother and noticed that unlike yesterday, he could no longer see the blue tarp cover of the swimming pool under all the snow.

"Holy shit!"

"Mark!" she scolded.

"Sorry," he laughed. His mother rolled her eyes and smiled.

"Why don't you go get dressed and shovel the walk for me?" Mrs. Cohen suggested, standing up and taking her son's plate.

"Okay," he replied. It figures that the only reason she wants him to stay is to shovel the walkway. "I'm just gonna call the loft, check in and make sure it hasn't exploded or anything."

Mrs. Cohen nodded, and placed his dished in the dishwasher. Mark walked into the living room and picked up the phone. He dialled the loft and waited for somebody to answer, but got the answering machine instead. He wasn't too surprised, and figured Maureen was still sleeping, Collins was out with Noah, Benny was chasing down Mimi, and Roger was passed out in an alley or something.

"Guys… it's me, Mark, your roommate. Uh, just calling to see if everything was still good. I'll be home later and my mom made lots of food for us, so, yeah. Right, anyway, see you later."

Mark hated leaving voicemails. He didn't like the sound of his voice when it was recorded. He stood up and walked into the hall, peeking into the kitchen. His mother was still cooking. He shook his head and jogged up the stairs to his bedroom. He quickly got changed into a pair of blue jeans and a sweater, and rubbed his hands together, trying to make them warmer. When he came back down the stairs, he saw his father entering the house with another older man.

"Hey dad," he greeted, smiling.

"Afternoon, Mark. You remember Chuck Kaplan, don't you?"

"Sure do." No he didn't. "How are you?" he asked, shaking Chuck's hand.

"Fine, thanks, and you? I hear you're in New York, now."

"I am," Mark laughed, slipping to his shoes as the other men slipped out of theirs. "It's pretty good. I've got myself a pretty nice place," he lied. No need to worry anybody. Heaven knows that if he said he lived in a shit hole his mother would make him move back in with them.

"Are you leaving?"

"No, just shovelling the walk."

"I wish my sons would come by and shovel for me," Chuck laughed, patting Mark on the back. "I'm going to go say hi to Josie."

"Your mother told you about the money Uncle Abraham left you and Cindy, did she?" Jacob asked, sitting down in the living room. Mark stood in the doorway and nodded.

"I forgot about it yesterday, but I've got the cheque for you."

"Awesome. Not about the death, but about the money. Not that I'm not sad about it, because I am. It just worked out in my favour. Financially."

"Mark," his father laughed. "Go shovel the walk."

"Okay," Mark replied. Chuck came into the room and sat down in a chair near Jacob's, and Mrs. Cohen wasn't too far behind with a tray of coffee and snacks.

"I'll be back in a bit," Mark laughed. He put his coat on and found a pair of gloves in the chest near the door. He picked up the shovel that was leaning against the wall and stepped outside, bracing himself for the cold.

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Maureen yawned and blinked several times. Joanne slid her a mug of tea across the counter and Maureen picked it up, sitting at the kitchen table.

"Thanks."

"Welcome," Joanne smiled, sitting across from her at the table. Maureen lifted her foot into her lap and rubbed her ankle. She had hurt it the other day from kicking the brick wall.

"You all right?" Joanne asked.

"Yeah. I just twisted my ankle before," she grimaced, blowing on her coffee to cool it down. She glanced over at the microwave and noticed the clock glowing '1:30'. She gave a small shiver and held her hands around the hot mug. She should call Mark. He had said that he would be home at about noon, so he was probably wondering where she was. She didn't know what to tell him this time about not being home again. She pushed those thoughts from her mind for the time being and focused on being with Joanne.

"Thanks for dinner last night, Pookie," Maureen smiled. "It was nice."

"It was. I'm glad you called."

"So am I."

"I just wish we could do it more often," Joanne mumbled under her breath. Maureen heard that even though she knew it wasn't meant for her ears. She ignored it, pretending she didn't, and poured a spoonful of sugar into her cup, stirring it to make sure it was evenly spread throughout the drink.

"So, what are you going to do on your big day off?" Maureen asked, lifting her mug to her lips.

"I've got a lot of work to do, actually," she replied sullenly. "I don't get days off."

Maureen sensed the resentment in her voice and looked down, rubbing her ankle again as she winced. If it wasn't for any of this she wouldn't be in so much pain right now. If she just disappeared off the face of the earth, nobody would be in such a predicament, herself included. If she died, only two people would my mildly unhappy. Her parents wouldn't care. Her mother was a deadbeat and she hadn't seen her father in over fifteen years. For all she knew they could be living in Alaska and France.

"Can I use your phone?" Maureen asked carefully, not wanting to set Joanne off on a tirade.

"Sure," she replied, deadpan.

Maureen stood up quietly and tiptoed over to the phone on the wall. She picked it up and turned the corner into the hallway, the cord stretching a bit. She dialled slowly, thinking of an excuse for Mark. Maureen held the phone up to her ear and heard the familiar greet of the answering machine.

"Mark, I know you're there." She spoke quietly. "Stop screening and pick up the phone. Please? Mark? Sorry I wasn't there to welcome you home," she laughed nervously. "I had a last-minute rehearsal and I couldn't get out of it. I'll be back soon, though. Don't be mad, okay?"

She stepped back into the kitchen, hanging up the phone. Joanne had yesterday's newspaper in one hand and her mug in the other.

"You should go home to Mark," she said coldly. Great. Now Joanne was mad at her, too.

"Pookie…" she started, laying a hand on her shoulder. Joanne placed her paper down on the table and turned to Maureen.

"I have a lot of things to do today. I need all the time I can get."

"Oh, sure, yeah. Understandable. I'll just…" she trailed off. She walked quickly into Joanne's bedroom and picked up her black cardigan, throwing it on over her white tank top. She exited the room, making a beeline for the closet in the hallway. She pulled out her red wool coat and put it on, sliding into her shoes quickly. She made sure she had everything in her coat pockets and poked her head into the kitchen.

"I'm just gonna go, then. Good luck with all your stuff."

"Bye," Joanne replied stiffly.

Maureen opened the door quietly and stepped out into the hallway, slamming it loudly behind her. If that didn't get her attention then nothing would. Joanne was being such a bitch and she didn't even have a reason. Maureen pushed the call button for the elevator several times impatiently and hurried on as it opened for her.

"Fuck," she whined loudly, reaching over to press the 'ground floor' button. She noticed that it was lit up and looked up slowly to see an attractive man looking at her, stifling a laugh.

"Oh, God," Maureen rolled her eyes and laughed. "Sorry."

"It's fine," he replied, finally laughing. "How are you?" he asked casually.

"I'm good," she said coyly.

'Stop it, Maureen…'

"I'm Max," he introduced himself, sticking his hand out for Maureen. She shook his hand and leaned on the wall of the elevator.

"Maureen." She twirled a piece of hair around her finger and leaned in closer to Max.

'What the hell am I doing?!' Maureen inwardly scolded herself. She wanted to stop flirting with him, but she couldn't help it. There was no impetus for it anymore.

"You're beautiful, Maureen," Max said stupidly.

"Thanks," she replied, giggling. She felt a burst of relief when the steel doors opened to reveal the lobby. She stepped off, Max behind her.

"It was nice to meet you," he smiled, jingling the car keys in his hand.

"Likewise." Maureen flirtatiously ran a finger down his arm. He winked at her as he turned into a door marked 'Parking Garage.'

Maureen walked out of the apartment building quickly. Max had disappeared into the parking garage, so she didn't have to worry about inadvertently flirting with him anymore. She walked briskly down the street, doing everything she could to stop herself from running into oncoming traffic.

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Benny laughed to himself as he heard Maureen leave her message on the answering machine. What a loser. Mark wasn't even home yet.

He had been alone in the loft since about eleven. Collins and Noah had gone out and Maureen didn't come home the night before. So he was hanging out, watching some blurry television and being a couch potato. He laughed at Balki on old reruns of Perfect Strangers and heard a knock at the door. He stood up and leaned over to pull it open. Mimi.

Mimi's small frame stood at the door, her big coat hanging off of her. Her long curly hair hung down around her and she shuffled her feet. Her hands were in her pockets and there was a nervous smile poised on her face.

"Hi."

"Hey," Benny said quietly, looking down at his feet. "What are you doing here? I thought you were mad."

"Yeah…"

There was an awkward silence in which the two stared at each other.

"Can I… come in?" she asked cautiously.

"Yeah, of course. Here," Benny replied quickly. He swung the door open and fumbled with the television remote and managed to mute it. Mimi carefully sat down on the edge of the couch, her hands still in her pockets.

"Benny…" she started, trailing off. Benny watched her eyes drift around the apartment and settle their gaze on the box of Captain Crunch on the kitchen counter.

Benny sat down on the chair and sighed quietly. "Mimi…" he mimicked.

She quickly looked over to Benny and let out a small laugh.

"Sorry, I'm just… I think we need to talk."

"Yeah, I think we do."

"Look, I'm sorry that I yelled at you. I guess I shouldn't have since you called to kind of patch things up. And since you don't speak Spanish," she laughed.

"And I shouldn't have yelled at you when you told me."

"No, you were just worried. It makes sense."

"I doesn't. I shouldn't have. I feel horrible."

"Don't," Mimi laughed. "It's okay. Maybe all our yelling cancels itself out."

"Maybe," Benny smiled. He got up and sat next to Mimi on the couch. "I just can't imagine having to go through it all alone."

"I'm not, though. I've got my mother and I've got really great friends. And I had an amazing boyfriend until he went loco." Benny placed an arm around Mimi's shoulders and laughed.

"I like it when you talk Spanish."

"I wasn't speaking any Spanish."

"But I like it when you do," Benny laughed.

"You're weird," she giggled. "I don't want to fight with you. I've missed you."

"I missed you, too." Benny kissed Mimi and rested his forehead against hers. "Let's not fight again."

"Sounds good," she grinned, kissing him back. "I love you."

Both of them froze in their place. It was apparent that Mimi immediately regretted saying that. A delicate hand travelled up and covered her mouth. Benny pulled away, his eyes wide.

"What?"

"Nothing," Mimi replied quickly. "I said nothing."

"Look, Mimi…" he started.

"No!" she shouted, jumping up from her seat. "Forget it." She reached out to the door handle and struggled to pull it open. Benny stood up after her and walked around so that he was facing her.

"Why did you say that?" he asked quickly, a slight frown on his face.

"I don't know," she let go of the door handle and wrapped her arms around herself. "Because I do."

"Mimi, I don't think you know what you're talking about."

"What if I do?" she replied quietly, looking down at her feet.

"But you don't. You're only eighteen, Mimi. Don't you think you're kind of young to be feeling like that?"

"So now I'm too young for you?" Mimi shot back.

"I didn't say that—"

"You didn't have to!" Mimi took a step back and let her arms drop to her sides. "Why don't you just tell me what you think, then?"

"Well I thought we were doing fine until you said that!"

"What's wrong with my saying that? What if it's true?" Mimi asked harshly, making air quotations with her fingers when she said 'that.'

"It's not, though! We've been seeing each other for less than a month and you're already throwing that word around?" Both Benny and Mimi were apprehensive about using the actual word, though neither of them knew why.

"Jesus, Benny! What if I'm not throwing the word around? That's what I'm trying to ask you, but you keep dancing around it like if you answer me you'll burst into flames! Why won't you give me a straight answer?" she yelled.

Benny remained quiet for a short moment, then threw his hands up in the air. "Because I don't know what to say," he replied, defeated. Mimi shrugged and leaned on the door, crossing her arms over her chest. She kept her gaze fixed on the kitchen, her face expressionless.

"I think we're moving too fast," Benny said quietly and calmly. Mimi remained silent and motionless, so he continued.

"I've really enjoyed the last couple weeks. I really like spending time with you, hanging out with you, and I don't want to lose that. I just don't think our relationship's… mature enough for all of this to be happening so soon."

"Yeah," Mimi replied emotionlessly, still staring off into space.

"Maybe we need…" Benny took a deep breath and sighed. "Maybe we need to take a break." Mimi looked at Benny, a look of anguish on her face.

"Just for a little while. We can find out what we want… figure everything out."

"Sure." Mimi shut her eyes and swung open the loft door, running down the stairs quickly.

"Mimi!" Benny called, but he didn't chase after her. He leaned against the doorframe and ran his fingers through his short hair. He couldn't say anything without Mimi getting angry at him.

Benny shook his head and shut the door quietly. He stood, staring at it for several minutes as if he was expecting Mimi to come back. She didn't, so he sat back down on the couch and watched the muted television. After another episode of Perfect Strangers, two Full House episodes, and half of a Step By Step, the door slowly creaked open and Maureen poked her head in the loft.

"Mark home?" she asked, wincing.

"Nope," Benny shook his head.

Maureen sighed. "Good." She entered the loft and hung up her coat and took off her shoes. She immediately made a beeline over to the kitchen and searched through the fridge for something to eat.

"Where'd he go?" she asked.

"Never came home," Benny replied, shrugging.

"He's still in Scarsdale?" Maureen asked, turning back to Benny.

"I guess."

"Oh," she sighed, relieved. She studied Benny for a moment and leaned back onto the counter. "Want to do me a favour?"

"Maybe," he shrugged.

"Don't tell Mark I wasn't here last night."

"Why not? Where were you?"

"Just at a friend's house. She's going through a bad break up and wanted someone to watch sappy movies with," she laughed, opening the fridge back up.

"'She'?" he asked.

"Yes. Don't tell me you think I'm cheating on Mark, too."

"Didn't say that," he shrugged. "It's just weird that you didn't come home last night," he prodded her.

"Look, do you want me to call her up so you can ask her if I was there?" Maureen asked loudly.

"No," Benny laughed, shaking his head. "I believe you."

"That's right you do," she grinned, pouring some cereal into her bowl of milk. She took it over to the couch and carefully sat down next to Benny, not wanting to spill any of her meal.

The two remained seated on the couch, talking and watching television (Maureen had turned up the volume when she realized she didn't understand the story line). Benny confessed what happened with Mimi, feeling the need to ask for advice. Maureen laughed at him and reassured him that he should wait until Collins came home for advice.

When Mark came home later that afternoon, he found Benny and Maureen asleep on the couch, the television still playing in the background. He shut it off for them and quietly checked the loft to see if Roger had returned home yet. No such luck.

He felt a sinking feeling in his stomach and the worry that he had tried to shove to the back of his mind for the last several days came screaming out of him. What if Roger was dead?