CHAPTER 33
Thanks to Michelle, MaureentheDramaQueen, Kelby, lozzypop, EMI, Amy, Jan, and the-fraulein for the great reviews of course! I've broken 200 now, so thank you all for that!
For those of you that are Mark/Maureen fans, you'll enjoy this chapter. =]
* * * *
APRIL 18th
"So how much further?" Mark yawned from the backseat of the cab and drummed his fingers on the leather seat.
Maureen glanced out the window and down the road and smiled. "It's the next street over from this one. It's the house right behind that yellow one over there. You can see the pool kind of."
He looked in the direction that she was pointing in and nodded. "Oh. It's really nice here. Kind of reminds me of Scarsdale a little bit."
"Really?" Maureen asked him.
"Well, this part of Chicago anyway. The residential area, not the actual city," he laughed. "I thought all along you were from Hicksville."
"Well I was. My parents moved away when I was two and we ended up here. They wanted to be closer to my grandparents."
The cab screeched to a halt outside a two story tan brick house with brown trim. Three cars were parked in the paved driveway: A black Cavalier, a red Volvo, and a black Jetta. Very middle class. The lawn was manicured nicely, and rows of flowers accented the walkway up to the front door. Maureen quickly paid the cab fare and got out, heading straight to the trunk. Mark followed and unloaded the one suitcase they had brought with them for the weekend. She had shoved all of their clothes they would need for the three day stay the night before, and Mark silently prayed that nothing of his had been left behind to make more room for her extensive wardrobe.
"What's that other bag?" Mark asked her, confused.
"My makeup and hair shit," she answered. He started laughing and hugged her gently. "What? You really think I could survive the weekend without all of it?"
"No, probably not. You would have looked like the Wicked Witch of the West," Mark teased.
She pinched him and grinned devilishly. "Behave."
The cab pulled away from the curb and headed down the street as Mark and Maureen made their way up the walkway. It was a little after noon, and they were both starving, since they hadn't eaten much for breakfast or on the plane besides peanuts and orange juice. Maureen pressed the doorbell and nervously started tapping her fingers against her jeans.
"Stop that," Mark laughed. He took her hand in his and squeezed it gently. "Everything's okay. You'll be fine. You're still their daughter. Breathe."
Maureen smiled and shrugged. "You're right."
The front door opened and a middle-aged woman with blonde shoulder length hair appeared. Her eyes widened when she saw Maureen and she quickly opened the glass screen door.
"Sweetie! Hi!" The woman wrapped her arms around Maureen and kissed her cheek. "Oh my god, you're so thin now! Well you've always been thin, but wow! You look wonderful."
"Hi Mommy." She pulled away and motioned to Mark. "Mom, this is my boyfriend, Mark. Mark, this is my mom, Maryanne."
"It's nice to meet you," Mark said, grasping Mrs. Johnson's outstretched hand softly.
"Same here, Mark. You two look exhausted. Come on, I'll show you to the guest room upstairs and let you get settled. Are you hungry?"
"Famished," Maureen laughed. "Plane food just doesn't cut it for me." She smiled at Mark and took his hand again.
"I sent your father down for subs a few minutes ago so he should be back in a few. Nicky's out god knows where, and Ashley's not going to be home this weekend. But Monica will be here later tonight for dinner and she's practically talked my ear off about you coming home. Please Maureen, call your sister more often, will you?" Mrs. Johnson laughed.
"I know, I know." The three of them walked into the airy and spacious guest room. A queen size bed was positioned in between two windows. A closet was off to the right, and a computer and desk were to the left. A door connected the room to the guest bathroom, which was spotless.
"Here it is. I'll put more towels in the bathroom later tonight and there are clean sheets on the bed. Oh I'm so glad you're finally home." Maryanne hugged her daughter again. "You look so different."
"You say that every time you see me, Mom," Maureen whined.
"Because it's the truth!" she laughed. "You should give Mark the grand tour later. Show him your room and everything."
"I will."
Maryanne smiled at Mark and clasped her hands together. "I'll leave you two alone and let you get settled in. I'll holler when your father gets back with the food."
"Thanks Mom."
"Yeah, thank you Mrs. Johnson."
She nodded and smiled. "It's Maryanne, sweetie. No need for that. Don't make me feel older than I am." She shut the door behind her, and Mark heard her footsteps thunder back down the steps.
"She's nice," Mark noted.
"Yeah. She is." Maureen started chewing on her lip and looked up at the ceiling.
"You okay?" He walked over to her and wrapped his arms around her stomach, planting a kiss on her neck.
"Uh yeah, I'm fine." She pulled out of his grasp. "Come on,
I'll show you my room."
"Implying something there?"
"Nope. Saving that for later. How else are we going to break in this bed?" she winked. "Come on." She grabbed his hand and pulled him down the hall and up another small set of stairs. They found themselves in front of another door. Maureen opened it and they entered a long loft-like room. Posters of various eighties bands were hanging on the walls. Old pictures of friends were stuck in the mirror. The daybed was very neatly made. Just a typical teenager's room, revisited six years later.
"Wow. Pretty nice for a…Catholic school girl?" Mark walked over to the wall and pointed at the varsity letter tacked up on Maureen's bulletin board. "Lots of school pride?"
"Yeah. I was a varsity cheerleader. Go figure. Mount Saint Mary's."
"But you and Catholic school girl in the same sentence?" Mark laughed. "Did you hate it?"
Maureen shrugged. "It wasn't too bad. I would've transferred out but I wanted to keep my grandparents happy. My parents didn't really care and told me they would have supported me going to a public high school. My little Ashley went to Catholic school too. Monica and Nick both went to public school. I guess I just felt like I was the odd one out." She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "I had a lot of good friends, and raised hell on the weekends, so I was okay with it. I wasn't really the best student though."
"I wasn't either."
"Really? Marky, not a good student?" She laughed and started glancing at the pictures still stuck in parts of her mirror.
"Who the hell do you think I hung out with all the time?"
"You mean you didn't have any other friends beside Roger?"
"No, I did. But it was usually Roger and a few of our other friends. We were never really home. Partied a lot."
"But you and partied a lot in the same sentence?" Maureen mocked him, giggling.
He shrugged and stretched out on her daybed, picking up a black photo album off of the nightstand. Maureen wasn't really paying attention, so he started flipping through it slowly. Picture after picture of a woman and man with dark brown hair holding a newborn baby. Maureen's birth announcement and a baby snapshot. The pictures progressed through the years, and then there were quite a few pictures of a young Maureen with a little girl around the age of two or three. Both were posed in dresses—the pictures obviously had been professionally done. A caption at the bottom read 'Maureen, age six. Monica, age three—1980'. Confused, Mark furrowed his brow and flipped backwards. He didn't see any resemblance to Maureen's mother, Maryanne, in these pictures in either Maureen or her younger sister. In fact, the woman he had met not even twenty minutes before wasn't in any of these early pictures at all. Her mother wasn't even the one holding Maureen when she was a newborn or pictured with the two girls. Something wasn't right here.
"Oh, pookie, I found my varsity cheerleading jacket in my closet!" Maureen laughed. "It still fits!"
Mark looked up and found her wearing the white and blue jacket. "Cool." She then turned back around and started digging through her closet some more, and he returned his attention to the photo album. He found the page with Maureen's birth announcement on it and scanned it over again carefully.
John and Diane Bailey would like to announce the birth of their daughter, Maureen Elizabeth Bailey, born on November 8th, 1974 at 6:02 PM. 7lbs., 1 oz.
Bailey? Mark knew Maureen's last name was Johnson. What was going on? And wait a minute, didn't she just tell him that she had two other siblings? Nick and Ashley? How come they weren't even in these pictures? He continued from where he had left off, and then found the pictures with the woman Maureen had introduced as her mother. Maryanne was sitting on the pool deck with Maureen and Monica, along with two other children Mark knew had to be Nick and Ashley and a man with dirty blonde hair. Except Nick and Ashley resembled Maryanne and this man without a doubt. Same blonde colored hair and everything. Maureen and Monica stood out, with their dark brown curls and different features.
"Hey Mo?"
"Yeah?" She pulled her head out of the closet and smiled. "What?"
"Can I ask you something?"
"Yeah, sure sweetie."
"How come your mom isn't pictured in these early pictures of you?" he asked her. "I'm just wondering. It seems a little weird to me."
Maureen visibly paled a little bit in the sunlight that was floating into the room and wrapped her arms across her chest. "Where'd you find that photo album?"
"Just…here. On the nightstand." Mark sensed that something was wrong and automatically closed the album. "Sorry. I just thought since you were looking through your closet—"
"That you could snoop through my private pictures?" She raised her voice a few notches and held out her hand. "Give me the album."
"Okay—" Mark handed her the book and Maureen automatically took it back to the closet and placed it on the top shelf, slamming the door in the process. "Um, am I missing something?"
"Do you see me snooping through your room? No! So why do you think you have the right to look at my pictures?" Maureen yelled at him. "God Mark, you think you could have a little more respect for me than just do that behind my back?"
"Technically it wasn't behind your back, since you were in the room the whole time. Plus, you just had the damn thing on your nightstand. It wasn't like it was hidden or anything. I thought I could look at it. Sorry. Next time I'll fucking ask you, okay?" he snapped back. "You're acting like you're hiding something from me."
"Well maybe I am! Maybe you just don't have a right to know!"
"God, stop being dramatic. They were just pictures. I just wanted to know why your mother wasn't in them, and why your last name was Bailey. Christ, okay, calm down. Not a big deal. Forget I even looked at them and forget I even asked."
"Maureen, Mark! Lunch!"
Maureen took off her varsity jacket and placed it on the bed. "Come on. Let's go eat and you can meet my dad. Marky…I'm sorry. It's just, there's something I never told you because I was afraid you wouldn't understand. I'll explain it later. I promise. I'm sorry I yelled at you, I didn't mean to—"
Mark had walked over to her and pulled her in for a hug. He kissed her forehead as she rested her head against his shoulder. "It's okay. You can tell me anything, you know that, right?"
"Yeah," she nodded. "Just later, okay?"
"Sure."
* * * *
"So Mark, Maureen phoned the other day and told me you were from Scarsdale? That's right around New Rochelle, right?"
"Yes, sir. About fifteen minutes away. My sister and her family live there." Mark eyed Maureen nervously and pushed the pot roast around his plate. She gave him a bright smile and picked up her wine glass to take a sip.
It was around six o'clock Friday evening, and about twenty minutes beforehand Mrs. Johnson had taken the pot roast and potatoes out of the oven and served it out on the table. For a short period of time, it had just been Maureen's father and mother, Jack and Maryanne, himself, and Maureen sitting around making idle conversation. There had been a little bit of tension at first, but they had all settled in comfortably when Maureen's younger sister, Monica, had gotten home from work to join them.
"That sounds great. First time in Chicago?" Jack buttered himself a roll and passed the butter across the table to Maureen, who did the same.
"Definitely."
"Well then Maureen will have to show you around tomorrow."
"Yeah," she agreed. "I'll take you to a few art and photography museums downtown. We have some great ones here."
"That sounds great," Mark added. Okay, the whole 'family' conversation was definitely getting forced now.
Maryanne must have sensed the tension, so she looked up at Mark and smiled. "Maureen told me that you make documentaries, Mark. How do you like that line of work?"
"I guess it suits me pretty well. I get to capture a lot of great things on camera, and then put them together how I see fit. You have some pretty…interesting people in Manhattan. You get a lot of good footage by just watching people do everyday things."
Maureen giggled and squeezed his hand underneath the table. "Don't get Mark started, Mom. It's one of his favorite things to talk about and we might just end up being here for days."
"Nothing wrong with that, honey. Your father's the same way once he starts talking about another blueprint he put together."
Jack laughed. "You see what I have to put up with, Mark?"
"Come on, Dad," Monica chimed in. "How many times would you try to get us to add in ideas for another house? What about another bathroom here? A walk in closet?" She ran her fingers through her shoulder length dark blonde hair and shrugged. "Any more wine coolers in the fridge, Mom?"
"You've had two already…"
"She's twenty one, let her drink what she wants." Jack set down his fork and yawned. "So what do you two have planned tonight? I don't know about you, but I'm tired as hell."
Maureen shrugged and started running her finger along the edge of the wine glass. "Um, we haven't really thought about it. Maybe we'll go downtown or something."
"Yeah," Mark agreed. "We'll think of something. This was a great meal, Mrs. Johnson. Thanks."
"No problem, Mark. I'm just glad I get to finally meet you. Maureen's always talked so much about you over the years." Maryanne started bustling around the table and stacking everyone's dirty dishes, and Maureen jumped up to help her. Unsure of what to do, Mark lapsed into conversation with her father and sister for a few minutes, until he felt Maureen's hands wrapped around his neck again.
"What do you say to getting out of here for a little while and taking a walk?"
"Sure." He looked up at her, concerned. "You okay?"
"Yeah. I just—need to talk to you, that's all."
"Going out?" Maryanne asked, coming back into the dining room. "Sure you don't want any cheesecake for dessert?"
"No thanks," Maureen told her. "We'll be back later tonight."
"Okay, sweetie. I'll leave some aside in the fridge for you then. I'm so glad you're home." Mrs. Johnson squeezed her daughter's shoulders as she passed, and patted Mark on the back.
"Me too, Mom."
* * * *
Twenty minutes and a short cab ride later, Mark and Maureen found themselves frequenting Michigan Avenue, near the Old Chicago Water Tower. It was unusually quiet as they made their way to a small park about a block over. Mark playfully shoved Maureen in front of him, and she turned around and smiled.
"What was that for?"
"Just for being you," Mark laughed. "Hey, I'm really sorry about looking through that album before in your room. I didn't think it would upset you that much."
"It's okay. I guess I overreacted. Sorry."
"Don't worry about it." Mark watched her silently with his eyes as she settled herself in a swing. He ended up doing the same right next to her. "If you don't want to talk about it or anything, you don't have to."
"No, but I mean, you have a right to know. I just don't like talking about it. I don't think anyone really knows. Only Collins, maybe. I might have told him one time. I'm not really sure."
"Yeah."
Maureen started swinging back and forth slowly, low enough that she could still talk to Mark. "My real parents were John and Diane Bailey, not Jack and Maryanne Johnson. I guess—I don't really know where to start, so I'm sorry if this seems a little bit scattered. I was born in Hicksville, New York, mid November of '74. My parents had just gotten married the year before, and then they had me. I guess I had a pretty happy childhood, because I don't really remember much of it, you know?"
"Yeah, I know what you mean. I think most of my real memories start from when I was six," Mark added.
"My mom was really young when she had me. She was nineteen, and my dad was twenty. They were high school sweethearts, and Jack Johnson was my father's best friend. He was a year older, and had married Maryanne the year before my parents got married. When I was baptized, Jack and Maryanne became my godparents. Basically if anything ever happened to my parents, they would take over the responsibility of me. Well anyway, right before my first birthday, Maryanne had gotten a job offer in Chicago, so she transferred from Hicksville to there. I think it was pretty hard on my parents, knowing that their best friends were five hundred miles away. We tried to visit as much as we could, but you know how that works out. Eventually, my parents got sick of living in Hicksville, and moved to Chicago the summer of 1976. My mom wanted to be closer to her parents, and my dad's parents lived in Detroit, which wasn't that far away from Chicago, so everything worked out. Monica was born the spring of '77 when I was three years old. We were pretty close growing up, I guess as close as sisters can be maybe. My mom and Maryanne were always together, and when she would come over, she would bring her and Jack's son, Nick, who was a year older than me. Sorry, is this boring you?"
"No, go ahead. I'm just trying to follow along. So then Diane and John, your real parents, what happened to them?"
"Okay." Maureen stopped swinging, and looked down at the ground. Well it was May, a few days before Monica's fourth birthday. My parents had gone out that afternoon to go shopping for a few more presents for her and to have an early dinner. My grandma, my mom's mom, Nina, was babysitting my sister and I that day, because my mom had taken the day off to go to the doctor because she wasn't feeling well. Well, it was getting later and later, and my mom had promised me before she went out that she would be home in time to watch the Cosby show with me at eight that night. Six o'clock came and went, then seven. Pretty soon it was getting towards eight, and I kept begging my grandma to tell me where my parents were and why they weren't home."
"Tonight's the Cosby show, Mom. You gotta be home by then!"
"I promise Maureen. I love you and I'll see you later tonight."
Mark watched Maureen grab at her necklace tightly. He said nothing, and let her continue. "It was late. My grandparents were getting worried. So they started calling around, trying to get in touch with a few friends to see if maybe my parents had stopped over. My grandpa, Mike, ending up watching the Cosby show with me that night. Around 8:30, we got a phone call from…the hospital. A drunken driver had hit their car head on and caused a twenty-car pileup on the parkway. My parents were flown by helicopter to Northwestern hospital. My dad died five minutes after they tried reviving him in the trauma room, and my mom had too much internal bleeding. She didn't make it through the night. I didn't find out the details of how everything happened until I was a lot older, though."
"Oh god, Mo, I'm so sorry…" Mark didn't know what to say, so instead he reached over and took her hand in his. "I had no idea."
She wiped at her eyes with the back of her hand. She didn't even know when she had started crying. She didn't tell a lot of people this story. "It was a long time ago. Jack and Maryanne came to the hospital and sat with me and my sister for the rest of the night as the paperwork went through. After the funeral, they adopted me and Monica and we went to live with them. I don't really remember a lot of my feelings. I know I was pretty angry for a long time, because as childish as this sounds, my mom broke her promise to me. She didn't watch the Cosby show with me that night. It's hard now. Sometimes I think about her, and sometimes I don't. Her face is always blurry, and even when I look at pictures, it still is. I can't picture her or my dad in my head. I just remember the way she smelled when she got ready for work. Chanel perfume. I remember the way she used to make me pancakes in the morning, and how she always put lavender soap bubbles in my baths at night. I remember my dad always spinning me around on his shoulders when he got home from work. Little things like that. But then I remember a lot of happy times with Jack and Maryanne, too. They tried to take over my parents' place, but after time, I let them both. I think it's because of this that they let me slide when I got in trouble. They never grounded me or punished me, really. We just got into fights a lot of the time, but I think they were afraid that if they punished me, that they were forcing their rules onto me, and I don't think they wanted me to rebel. Does that make any sense?"
"Yeah. Yeah, it does," Mark told her.
"But now when I talk about my 'parents', I talk about Jack and Maryanne. I was six years old when John and Diane died. Because even though I don't like saying this, Jack and Maryanne were always there for me when life got harder when I grew up. We were always pretty close, even though they weren't my biological parents or anything. They treated Monica and I the same way they treated Nick and Ashley, except about the punishments. I have a lot of respect for them. That's why when your mother or Roger's mother calls, I get so upset because you both ignore it and put if off to the last minute or until they call again. Sometimes I wish I could have gotten a better chance to say goodbye to my real mom and dad. Maryanne and I used to have these talks every night, about something that happened that day to me that I wish I could change, or something that I saw happen. She used to tell me to live everyday as if it was my last, and always tell people how I truly felt about them before it was too late. She said that sometimes being put in a situation that wasn't unfair, like the death of my parents, was just a test to show how much of a strong person I really was. And I think in the end, it really did." She shivered a little bit. "It's getting cold out. Maybe we should go back."
"Yeah." Mark waited for Maureen to get up out of the swing before wrapping his arm around her waist. "I'm glad you trusted me enough to tell me that."
"I've always trusted you, Marky. I think it was just more of a matter of us learning to trust each other." She kissed his cheek softly and they continued out of the park together, hand in hand.
* * * *
Later that night, as Maureen showered in the guest bathroom, Mark picked up the phone and dialed Scarsdale. His mother picked up on the second ring, and her excitement that her long lost son had finally called her for once was practically causing the phone itself to glow.
"Mark, is that really you? Do you have any idea what time it is?"
"Yeah Mom, I know. I just wanted to call to tell you I love you."
"Is everything okay? You're not in trouble with the law, are you, sweetheart?"
"No, I'm in Chicago with Maureen for the weekend—"
"Maureen! I thought she was a lesbian! Mark, what's going on? Are you sure everything's—"
"Everything's fine, Mom. Really. I just wanted to call and tell you that."
"Well okay. I love you too."
"I'll call you when I get back to the city, okay? Goodnight."
"Okay, honey. I'll talk to you then. Night."
* * * *
Don't forget to review. =]