Scene: Fi's Apartment

Later on that afternoon Genevieve sat on her sister's couch listening to her CD player while putting together her scrap book and leaving spaces for the pictures that she would pick up later on. While going through the box she had brought over stock full of memories she came across a dirtied letter. Tears immediately filled her eyes as her fingers moved across the crinkled envelope. Memories of the sender filled her mind. It was from Jeff, the man who had once held her heart, and had talked her into going to Africa. She remembered the day she had come back to one of the camps she had worked at and found it in ruins. The people were gone, and so was Jeff. She had waited for weeks for some word from him and the inhabitants of the camp. She found a few, but the letter, the form of communication she wanted so badly never came. Her friend Keya had said the camp had been raided, everyone ran but there was no where to go. Jeff had been shot trying to protect the younger girls of the camp, his dead body had been found lying on top of a younger girl, protecting her from any more harm. When Gen went to his funeral she clutched her mouth at the sight of him. He looked so good, almost real, almost alive. In the real world, almost never cut it. She cried for the next two days straight, she did it silently, never wanting anyone to know how deep his death had cut her heart. She was in love with a man who would never again whisper those words to her. He would never laugh at her klutzy ways, and he would never share the moments that only a person in the mission's camp could understand. The only person whom she had opened her heart to was gone, and for months she feared she would never open up again. She got up and walked over to the window. She wrapped her arms around her sound and held tightly while staring down into the city depths. New York would never be the same for her again, no longer would Broadway lights be the main form of her happiness. So much had happened over the past six months, her life had been changed forever, and even though Africa only gave a depressing image, she knew her heart belonged there. Perhaps that was why it gave such a bleak image. Someone knocked on the door while Gen stood there watching, finally the noise of fist on door reached into her mind and she turned to the sound. Reaching up to wipe away the tears from her eyes she walked to the door and opened it only to be greeted with Mark, who seemed surprise that the person to open the door was Genevieve, but even more that she had been noticeably crying.
Trying to save her from embarrassment, he chose to ignore the reddened eyes and nose, "Is Fi here?"

"Uh no, I think she went out with Roger somewhere."

"Oh, alright."

"I'll tell her to you came by."

"Thanks."

"No problem." Gen began to close the door when Mark put his hand in the doorway.

"Wait," he said.

"Hm?" Gen asked looking at him in confusion.

"I wanted to apologize for my comment earlier, it was uncalled for."

"It's alright, it caught me by surprise, I'm not usually referred to that way, but I think I got over it."

"Oh."

"Thank you for apologizing though, few rarely ever do that anymore. Congeniality seems to be a thing of the past now in days."

"I know what you mean. Well I guess I'll go, just tell Fi when she comes back I need to talk to her."

"I will. Do you like her?"

"What?"

"Do you like her? My sister. Do you like her?"

"You could say that."

"Oh." Gen said looking a little crestfallen.

"But I know how much she likes Roger, and I know how much he likes her, so I know where I stand, and where I will remain standing."

"Right. He'll be good for her. She's been screwed over by guys in the past, and to be honest, unless the world wants her to end up like a bitter wench, she shouldn't be screwed over again."

"You two are really close aren't you?"

"Yeah, always have been. I never understood how siblings could tell each other that they hated each other or how they could argue all the time. Yeah we had our differences, but for the most part we got along great, still do. As the years have progressed, we've become best friends. When I announced I was going to Africa, she was the only one to back me up on it. She knew my dream from the start was to help people, so she knew that I knew what I was getting into."

"Is there anything from Africa you regret?"

Genevieve stood there looking up into his eyes and thought, "I only wish I could have done more."

"What do you mean?"

"Would you like to come in?" She asked opening the door wider inviting him into the loft. "I feel as if this may not be a discussion to be had while standing."

"Yeah, thanks." He said while walking in. Gen walked over to the leather couch and pushed the stuff she had been going through earlier onto the coffee table. She motioned to the couch with her hands for Mark to sit, he did, and she sat a foot away from him. "What did you mean by, 'I only wish I could have done more'?"

"In Africa, things are completely different; it's like a world that doesn't even belong on Earth. There is so much to be heartbroken over, the towns, the little supplies, and the people. And yet, there is so much song over there. They know their circumstances, and yet they accept it, and look to the brighter day. It made me realize how selfish I've been up until now. By American means, our lives were never extravagant, in fact, our family was quite plain. Two girls and three boys, a mother, a father, two sets of grandparents, middle sized house, good jobs, and good morals. We were never taught to be rude, and were expected to be kind to everyone, and for the most time we were. Minus the time my brother Vince decked a guy for pushing me into the monkey bars at the park. We had the things we needed, and for the most part the things we wanted. With the exception of Fi's horse, Vince's Canada, Jake's Antarctica, and Tony's cruise ship."

"And what did you want?" Mark interrupted both amused by Gen's family and curious as to what her childhood fantasies wanted.

"Nah uh, not going there."

"Why?"

"Because it's stupid."

"I assure you, Antarctica thing is about as stupid as you could get."

"You say that now."

"Come on, give."

"Promise not to laugh?"

"I promise." Mark said while sticking out his pinky. Gen relented and twisted her pinky around his, like best friends in child hood do. Only Mark did not ever remember ever feeling like this when he made a pinky promise with his friends. This was much more important.

"I wanted a Prince."

"A prince?"

"Yeah, you remember that scene from Snow White right after the prince had kissed Snow White and she woke up, and then the two rode off into the sunset."

"Sure." Mark said.

"That's what I wanted; I've always been a romantic I guess you could say."

"It's a good thing to want, love I mean. Have you found your prince?"

"I did."

"What do you mean?"

"He died four months ago."

"I'm sorry."

"Me too."

"Is that why you were crying?"

"I was kind of hoping you wouldn't bring that up, but yeah that's why."

"Sorry."

"It's alright. Just don't tell anyone."

"I won't, Scouts honor."

"Were you ever a scout?"

"Nope."

Gen grinned, "I didn't think so, you don't seem the type."

"And what type am I?" Mark said intrigued.

"The artistic type."

"Anything else?"

"That's all I can say as of now."

"Oh." Mark said disappointed.

"But, when I spend more time with you, I'll extend upon that." She said standing up, stretching her arms over her head. Then looking at her right wrist at her watch she noticed the time. "Hey I got to go run some errands, want to come with?"

"Uh, sure." Mark said a little uncertain.

Gen laughed again, he was really beginning to like the sound, "You don't have to go, I just thought I'd offer."

"No, it's fine really."

"Cool. Well let's go then." The two walked out of the apartment, down the stairs, and to her car. Gen went and opened his door and bowed grandly, "Your chariot sir."

Mark just shook his head and laughed as he got in.