Joanne checked her watch for the second time in the past three minutes. Mark had never been late in the two months since they'd begun meeting for their weekly tea and coffee. She wiped her eyes with a finger, making sure that her minimum makeup hadn't been smudged by tears. "Of all the times to skip out on me, Cohen," she murmured and stood.
"Joanne!"
The lawyer turned to see just the man she'd been waiting for on that afternoon. Mark Cohen raced up on his bike and all but jumped off of it, stumbling a bit as he landed. "About time," Joanne huffed, trying to sound angry rather than worried.
"Sorry… I got off work late."
"You're the only one that does anything in that hell hole," the dark eyed woman growled. "You're not still thinking about getting that second job, are you?"
Mark finished tying his bike to a road sign and sat down. "Not thinking, no," he said evasively. He looked over to the waiter who saw them, waved, and started back to put an order in for their usual.
"Then you already have it."
"You don't have to sound like it's the end of the world, Joanne. We need the cash."
"Roger's got two hands."
"Mimi's been sick… I'm worried it won't be long this time."
"Something's always wrong, Mark. It's going to be you in the hospital next."
Mark sighed heavily. He thought perhaps he would avoid this conversation in this visit. It was the last thing that he needed. His and Joanne's weekly meetings of tea, coffee, pastries, and talk had come from her need to rant about Maureen and ask his advice – so he told the curious Roger – and, in truth, her worry for him. It was true that he skipped a meal here and there and hardly ate well when food did find its way to his mouth, but there were other things that his money went to. There was that hole in the upper window that needed fixing and supplies to do that with, Roger's AZT and now Mimi's, and the rent and utilities that Benny was charging them once again. Somehow his own health had taken a backseat to everything else.
"I'm not landing in the hospital. I don't have time for that," Mark said, exasperation evident in his voice.
Joanne shook her head. She'd had no problem with Mark getting a steady job when he'd decided to do it a little over a month before, but when it didn't turn out the way that the filmmaker had hoped then he had gone searching for one to work on top of the first. He was running himself ragged.
"Joanne?"
"Hmm?"
"Something else is bothering you."
She smiled slightly, allowing her eyes to wander to her cup of coffee. "How many times did Maureen cheat on you?"
Mark almost laughed into his tea. "At one time or over the course of our relationship?"
"The course, preferably." She thanked the waiter as he placed their food on the table.
"Well, that's too long of a list. Did she cheat again?"
"Yeah."
"Damn… I'm sorry, Joanne. I told you she was like that. She's like a drug, though, everyone just keeps going back to her." He paused, thinking for a moment. "One time she cheated three different times." At Joanne's look he grinned. "In one night. I'd managed to save up for a pretty nice dinner – relatively, you know - and she ran off with this one guy two times to the bathrooms… The third time she came out and told me she needed to head out somewhere. It was pretty blatant."
"I'm so sorry, Mark."
The filmmaker shrugged. "That was Maureen though. I loved her for who she was and was blind to the flaws. Anything that went wrong was my fault because I was too busy with my camera."
"You still love her, don't you?"
"Yeah… in some wacky way."
Joanne smiled thoughtfully. "Well, if you would ever be crazy enough to get back together with her, this is the time to do it. She's moving out today and will probably, knowing her, go straight to your place to crash."
"You two broke it off? Again?"
"Yes."
"I'm sorry."
"I'm not."
They sat in silence a moment, both mulling over their thoughts. "It won't be like last time," Joanne said at last. "We agreed to be friends, as odd as that sounds. You two do it, though, so it's not impossible. We'll never try it again."
"Never say never," Mark responded with a small, strained smile. He coughed into his hand once before sipping at his tea.
"You don't look well, Mark."
"I haven't heard you ever say I looked well, Joanne."
"You know what I mean."
He looked up, blue eyes locking with brown. "What can I do to make you happy and not bother Roger with this?"
"Eat."
"I do. As much as I can." He coughed again, this time a bit lengthier.
"See a doctor."
"I…" Mark paused. "I already did. Yesterday. No results on what's the matter yet, but I can tell you it's all exhaustion." He gulped down the rest of his tea and stood, placing some cash on the table. "Don't look at me like that, Joanne. I have to pay every once and a while or I'll feel bad. Humour me."
"Are you leaving so soon?" She didn't mean for it to come out that way, but she'd really hoped for a longer conversation than this.
"I need to get back to Roger. If someone else isn't there he'll spend all his time at Mimi's side. He won't eat, won't take his AZT… You know how he is."
"Nothing like his best friend," Joanne teased lightly. "Go, and eat dinner tonight, promise?"
"Yes Mom."
"I'm a lot of things, Cohen, but I ain't your mother."
They laughed or a moment before Mark said his goodbye and Joanne watched him ride away. He looked slightly unsteady on his feet and even worse on his bike, but she let him go. She wasn't his mother, that was true. She was only a friend and that was the only role she could play… For the time being.