Chapter 3 – Clio (history)
It doesn't stop you from being afraid
But not everyone wants to hurt you
Façade
High School Roger is not the Roger in most of these film reels. He was a lot like withdrawal Roger, actually. Bruises, horrible scars, black eyes and broken bones.
"He's my father, Mark. I can't hate him." He'd clench his fists. "He doesn't mean it."
The first sign of problematic relationships in your future is if your parents have one.
Roger smiles in the film. His hair was long back then, he'd fixed it so it mostly covered his left eye. There's a cut on his forehead under his hairline.
"Are you alright?" Camera Mark asks from the film.
Roger shrugs. "I don't know what you're talking about, Mark. There's nothing wrong with me, ever." He grins. "C'mon, let's go in the building. Stupid science thing is first hour."
Chemistry. Roger was horrible at chemistry. He still is.
"Do my Geometry homework too, while you're at it, since it's so much 'fun'." Camera Mark says to High School Roger. High school Roger grins and takes my paper and textbook away from me.
"It's simple, Mark. It's all logic."
"Which is why it's amazing that you're good at it."
He shrugs. "I like these little proofs." He sighs. "Mark, if you had used a perpendicular bisector to solve this one it would have saved you about four steps."
The camera is jostled slightly when Camera Mark shrugs.
"Roger?" Camera Mark asks. Roger nods and looks up briefly.
"Do you want to stay with me for a while? I mean, if…"
He narrows his eyes. "What are you saying, Mark?"
"I just think that…"
"Well maybe you shouldn't think so much." He says angrily. "Just back off, alright?"
Maybe I shouldn't have listened.
Once I got past it, all you are
An emotional nightmare
Completely beautiful, unpredictable
And devoid of all logic
I close my eyes and shut off the film. I should have talked to his mom, maybe. I should have done something. The first time Roger ever ran away, we didn't find him for three weeks. Then he was in the hospital for three more.
"Mark is here?" He'd asked in a groggy voice from the hospital bed.
I stepped toward it hesitantly, slightly afraid. He turned in my direction and offered a weak smile.
"I wondered if you'd ever want to see me again." He said.
"I wondered the same." I said back, sitting on the chair next to his bed. His mother left the room.
In a surprising gesture of affection and friendship, he had taken my hand.
"You're my best friend." He said quietly, looking away. "I should have listened to you."
"You can still come stay with me, Roger. Please."
A week later he was sleeping on a mattress on the floor of my room. He stayed until I went to college, then he went to the city and got a job and a band.