Author's Note: Thank you for the reviews again, as usual! I'm glad people still like this.

Chapter 33

November

April shuddered and tightened the fleece blanket around her shoulders, basking in its comfort. She took another sip of her warm milk and swallowed hard, trying to forget about the horrible nightmare she had just a few minutes earlier; the same nightmare she had been having almost every night for the past month. She woke up, as usual, in a cold sweat, practically gasping for breath at the memory of what just happened. The dream was very similar every time she had it. It was always raining outside, and bad things happened – she'd forget her keys somewhere, she wouldn't be able to find the ringing telephone, she would fail a test – then Roger would be completely supportive and help her out. There'd usually be a baby, a boy, that he'd be singing back to sleep. And the dream would always end right before April slit her wrists.

She put her feet up on the coffee table and crossed her arms over her chest. She still hadn't told Roger about the nightmare. She had perfected the art of waking up in the middle of the night silently and falling back asleep without him noticing. She was too afraid to tell him. He had been so busy and stressed with work and was so intent on having the perfect life together. She didn't want to mess up his plans.

She pulled a pack of cigarettes out from under the couch cushion and removed one from the box. As long as she was getting up in the middle of the night, she'd need something to do. She stood up from the couch and wandered into the kitchen, pulling a lighter off the top of the fridge. Roger wouldn't look in either of those places. She lit it and took a long drag from it, coughing loudly when she inhaled too much.

"Shit," she muttered, hearing Roger call her from the bedroom. She put the cigarette out in the sink and hurried back over to the couch.

"April?" he called drowsily, emerging from the bedroom. "What are you doing out here?"

She shrugged calmly and wrapped the blanket around her shoulders again. "I couldn't sleep."

"It's three in the morning," he informed her, flopping down next to her. "Why can't you sleep?"

"How should I know?" she replied bitterly. "I'm just not tired."

He nodded, still half asleep. "You've been getting up in the middle of the night a lot lately."

"What do you mean?" she asked defensively, eyeing him suspiciously and crossing her arms again.

"You get out of bed a lot. Why?"

"No I don't."

He sighed and rubbed his eyes, blinking at April. "Yes you do. You just don't think I notice."

She shrugged again and ignored his questions.

"Is something wrong?"

Blinking back tears furiously, she shook her head. Her blurry eyes struggled to focus on the clock on the VCR as Roger moved closer to her on the couch.

"April, tell me. Remember? Married people tell each other everything."

She shrugged and tightened the blanket around her. "I had a bad dream."

Laughing, Roger replied, "Is that all? All this over a bad dream?"

April shook her head and wiped her eyes. "You don't understand."

"Then help me," he told her quietly.

She took a deep breath and let it out in a big sigh. "It was a special kind of bad dream."

"Special?" Roger repeated. "What does that mean?"

"Do you remember when I told you that we were sick?"

Roger nodded slowly, looking down at his hands. "Yeah."

April looked away from Roger and tucked her feet underneath her.

"I never told you, and I know you're going to be mad, but I was really depressed and scared and I was sort of suicidal and I almost killed myself. That's what the dream is about." She spit out the words and let them spill out quickly, not bothering to try and make them coherent.

Roger stared back at her.

"What?"

She turned back to him, biting her bottom lip.

"Why didn't you tell me that?"

April gave a small shrug as felt her eyes well up with tears. Roger stood up and began pacing the living room, sharply stopping and looking at her.

"April, answer me!" he yelled.

"Fuck, I don't know," she replied, looking down into her lap. "I don't know!" she screamed.

"What the hell do you mean, 'you don't know'?!" He began to pace again. "How could you keep this from me for so long? You're the one who is always giving me that bullshit about telling each other everything! And now you're going and doing this? Who the hell do you think you are? What the fuck is your problem, April?"

He whirled around and glared at her as she sobbed silently into her hands.

"Oh my God…" Roger breathed, a horrible feeling washing over him. He lowered his head and made his way back over to April, enveloping her in a hug and she reluctantly fell against him.

"I'm sorry," he murmured. "I'm sorry."

Her arms snaked around his neck as she cried into his shoulder.

"I'm so sorry," he whispered, feeling like the biggest asshole ever.

April nodded and cried harder, more at the memory of her dream than at Roger screaming at her. When she finally calmed down, she pulled away from Roger and wiped her cheeks dry.

"I'm sorry," he repeated. "I'm an idiot."

"Yeah…" she trailed off, sniffing back the rest of her tears as Roger hugged her again and pulled her onto his lap.

"So," he began, his comment hanging heavily in the air. "What… what now?"

She shrugged and cleared her throat. "I don't know."

"I don't know either," he sighed. "What could we do?"

"Well, I was thinking," April began reluctantly. "Because this is really frequent and it just gets worse every time… That maybe I should see a doctor."

"A doctor? What would they do?" Roger asked skeptically.

"No, like a therapist. A psychiatrist."

"A psychiatrist?" he repeated, frowning. They couldn't afford that. "It's that bad?"

April nodded slowly. "And I know what you're thinking, but I could get extra shifts at the restaurant when I'm not at school, and it would be hard, but I think we can do it. It's not that I want this, I just think I need it, you know?"

"Yeah," Roger replied, thinking about what she had just said. "I guess so."

"And don't be mad. I mean, if worst comes to worst I can borrow money for my parents, even though I'm pretty sure they hate me…"

"No," he shook his head. "We'll do this on our own. If you need it, I'll give it to you. I want you to be safe and happy."

She forced a smile and nodded, hugging Roger gently.

"I love you," she whispered.

Roger kissed the side of her head and sighed. This wasn't how it was supposed to be.

Roger shoved his hands into his coat pockets and walked briskly through the park, listening to the leaves crunching underneath his feet. He was feeling a little stressed lately because he had been working at the record store a lot and trying to balance a home life with April at the same time, which was getting hard to do. Even with both of them working, things were difficult around the apartment. They didn't fight very much, but when they did it was usually big and loud. Roger was starting to worry that they rushed into everything too fast and he wasn't sure this is what he wanted anymore. He loved April but felt like they weren't exactly 'marriage material.' Ever since April had sprung the idea of therapy on him, he believed even more that their relationship wasn't meant to be. They were young, and even though he hated to admit it, Roger was starting to regret his marriage to April.

He noticed a familiar figure standing ahead of him in the distance and slowed down as he approached it calmly, glancing around him to make sure there weren't too many by-standers. He tip-toed behind the person and tickled her wildly in the sides, laughing.

"Get the fuck awa– Davis!" Mimi screeched, lowering her fists and shoving him away from her. "Don't ever do that again or I'll kill you!"

"Sorry," he laughed, hugging her. She shook her head and hugged him back.

"Asshole. I hate you."

Roger laughed and kissed the top of her head. She pulled away and pushed him again, burying her face in her hands.

"Ugh, I hate you," she repeated shaking her head as they began to walk down the stone pathway through the park.

"So why did you want to come here?" Roger asked, looking up into the clear sky.

She swung her arms back and forth as they walked. "I dunno. It's such a nice day. I figured we should hang out… and I want to show you something!"

"What?"

Mimi took Roger's hand and pointed to a shadow in the distance.

"See him?"

Roger nodded at the figure he recognized far too well. The Man.

Mimi dragged him along the pathway, walking straight past him and the desperate group of people surrounding him. She clung onto Roger's hand tightly, but passed without even flinching. They walked briskly across the park out onto the sidewalk, and down the block before either of them said anything.

Mimi finally turned to Roger, grinning and radiating pride.

"Did you see?!" she squealed.

"I did!" he laughed, hugging her. "I'm so proud of you. That was great."

"You too," she giggled. "We both did it. Don't tell Benny we went there, though."

Roger frowned. "Why? Wouldn't he be happy?"

Mimi shrugged as they began walking again. "He doesn't like it when I go to the park… or anywhere really, alone. He gets so freaked out. I don't think he trusts me," she laughed.

Roger laughed quietly and dug through his pockets.

"I forgot, I brought these for us." He pulled out a bag of Skittles and tossed them over to Mimi. As she opened them, the sunshine caught on the diamond in her engagement ring.

"How is almost-married life?" he asked, holding out his hand.

Mimi poured some candy into the palm of his hand and shrugged, chewing the Skittles that were in her mouth.

"It's great when he's around. He's like, never home."

"Yeah, Benny can be like that."

"He's such a workaholic. The only time I see him is when he takes me out for dinner every once in a while."

Roger nodded, understanding. "Goes in early and stays late?"

"Yeah, because nobody else can do his job right, the damn perfectionist that he is."

"You forgot about mentioning how anal retentive and cheap he is."

Mimi laughed and hit him in the shoulder. "…Plus he's really anal retentive and cheap."

"But you love him," he reminded her.

She replied, sighing, "But I love him. Apparently."

"Yeah you do," Roger laughed, kicking at the leaves as they walked down the sidewalk. "Benny's a good guy."

"He is," Mimi agreed, eating some more candy and nodding. "So what's up? You seem sad."

"I do?"

"Yeah, you know, sadder and broodier than usual."

Roger laughed. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing," she shrugged, "Just wondering why you're cranky."

"I'm not. Just stressed. I've been working a lot and April's… April."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Mimi laughed, eating some more candy.

He sighed and shook his head. "She's just going through some stuff. She's been having this reoccurring nightmare and she apparently kills herself in it."

Mimi gasped.

"She told me she was suicidal after she found out she had AIDS."

Mimi stopped and turned to Roger. "Are we talking about the same April here? Blondie?"

"Yeah," Roger replied grimly. "And she never told me this before. The only reason she told me the other night is 'cause I yelled at her. Oh, and of course I fucked up her relationship with her parents, so she can't get help from them either."

Mimi linked arms with him and rested her head on his shoulder as they began to walk down the sidewalk again.

"It's not your fault."

"I know," Roger reassured her. "I know that. I just feel like, I don't know. Like we've met at screwed up times in our lives. We're just kind of fucking each other over and I'm not sure if I did this all right."

Mimi remained silent.

"How do you know that you and Benny are meant to be?"

She thought for a moment before replying. "I'm not sure. It just all feels right, like everything comes together when I'm with him."

"Yeah, and that's how I feel with April. Except now she's going and throwing this in my face and everything's going downhill. It's not working too well."

"It will." Mimi linked her hand through Roger's and looked up at him. "I know it will."

Roger smiled and squeezed her hand gently.

That makes one of us, Roger thought.

Maureen unlocked the door to her apartment and stepped inside, smiling when she heard Mark's voice.

"Yeah, I know—"

He turned around at the noise of the closing door and smiled from the kitchen, giving a small wave.

She tossed her jacket and her gloves on the couch, rubbing her hands together to warm them up. It was very cold out for November.

"No you don't get—"

Mark sighed and shut his eyes holding the phone away from his ear, a loud screaming voice coming form the other end. Maureen kissed him quickly on the cheek and opened the fridge, pulling out a carton of fried rice from a couple nights ago. Mark handed her a plate as he rolled his eyes, listening to the person on the phone. She poured the rice out onto the plate, grimacing slightly at the smell and grabbed a fork from a drawer before making her way over to the couch and plopping down.

"Okay. Okay, I'm going to go," Mark tried desperately to get off the phone. "Maureen's home!" he yelled, slamming the phone down.

Maureen looked back at Mark and frowned. "What was that?"

He sighed and sat down next to her, leaning his head against the back of the couch. "Cindy."

"Oh," she wrinkled her nose. "She still hate me?"

"She doesn't hate you…"

Maureen laughed. "Yes she does. She tells you all the time."

He shrugged and nodded. "I guess she does, then. Sorry."

"It's okay, 'cause I don't like her either."

Mark laughed and rested his chin on her shoulder. "Long day?" he asked her, trying to change the subject.

She nodded, poking at her rice. "Yeah. Missed you."

"Is it good?" he asked her, referring to her dinner.

"Benny called this morning, I forgot to tell you."

"What did he say?" he yawned.

"Apparently there's this big Christmas gala that his law firm is part of and he's trying to sell us tickets. You want to go?"

Mark shrugged. "I guess so."

"Good, because I told him we would," Maureen giggled before sticking her tongue out at him. She rubbed the back of his head and kissed his forehead. "How was your day?"

"I got promoted," Mark told her.

She looked up quickly and smiled. "That's so good! Congratulations, pookie!" she squealed, placing her food beside her and throwing her arms around Mark's neck. When he didn't respond she pulled back and stared him down. "…Right?"

"I guess…" he moaned. Maureen sat back down and made a face.

"You guess? Don't you like it?"

"Yeah I do," he reassured her. "It's just… this is going to sound stupid."

"No it won't," she smiled. "Promise."

Mark sighed. "I miss filming. I never get to go out anymore, it's always too late to go out."

"Is not."

"Yes it is!" he whined. "It always gets dark so fast and I'm too tired when I come home."

She laughed. "You're too tired to film but not too tired to—"

"Not helping!"

"Sorry," she frowned.

"It's just annoying because it takes up so much time. And now it's going to take up even more."

Maureen glanced over at the clock and back at Mark. She stood up from the couch and held her hands out for him.

"Why don't we go out right now?"

"What?" he asked. "But it's like, eight o'clock."

"So, grandpa?" she giggled. "What else were you going to do?"

He shrugged and took her hands, standing up too. "Nothing, I guess."

"Then let's go," she grinned.

Mark smiled back and picked up his camera from the bed. Maureen could always cheer him up.

"Wait," Mark stopped, turning back to Maureen who was putting on her coat.

"What?"

He moved closer to her and turned her around back to the couch.

"Finish your dinner."