Chapter Three

Mark's vision was filled with three Maureens, standing behind the doorway, her hair in tangles, and her eyes shot... but he still loved her either way. He coughed, the taste of alcohol climbing back from his throat.

"Mark?" She looked at him, surprised. She took a step back, observing him. "What are you doing here?"

Mark's head suddenly spun 80 miles per hour, and for some reason, he thought that it was Maureen at his doorstep.

"Maureen... Maureen, what are...?" He stumbled forward, as if his head weighed a ton and started to fall forward. He muffled the rest of his sentence incoherently. Maureen caught him before he crashed to the floor, and he held on to her shoulders.

"Hey, hey careful," she said. His feet shuffled a bit, and they both made their way inside. He kept his balance by holding on to her, and the only place he could look was down. It felt like he was going to throw up. For a minute, he lost all knowledge.

"Are you drunk Mark?" she asked.

He found this terribly funny. "Drunk?" It was funny coming out of anybody's mouth because he was the last person they'd ever figure to be drunk. "Me? Okay, maybe I had a drink... or two... or three hundred." He tried to look at her. He blinked a coupe of times, but he couldn't get his vision to focus even with his glasses on. Trying to focus on one of the three Maureens, he found a way for words. "Maureen, I've got something to tell..." His weight shifted abruptly. In a low murmur he managed to speak. "I don't feel too hot."

She grappled getting him across the room, Mark almost crawling on his knees to keep on moving. Taking him to the couch, Mark's vision finally cleared up a bit. As he landed on her couch, he noticed an irritating cackle in the background. The Wicked Witch appeared on the screen. Maureen put the television on mute, and the witch animatedly pantomime on screen. Mark closed his eyes. I feel like shit, he thought woefully.

"You don't happen to have one of those drinks with you, by chance? I could use one..." her voice trailed off hoarsely, and Mark wondered if she had a couple of drinks too.

"No more," answered Mark holding his arms up, as if showing that he had none with him. "None... Maureen... I have to..." He froze suddenly. He had just remembered something. He almost laughed at himself. He actually remembered something. "Shh..." He put a finger to his lips. "Listen."

Maureen gave him a wide-eyed look. "What?"

He paused waiting for any sign... any sound. "Joanne. She's here, isn't she?"

She snorted suddenly, as if annoyed. "Why should SHE be here? It's my apartment, not hers, why should she be here? I don't need her! I never did!" She grabbed him by the collar and shook him, his head bobbing up and down. It felt like a hammer was banging on his head. "It's MY apartment, Mark, MY life! My goddamn life! And don't you ever forget it!"

He stopped her by putting a hand on her shoulder. He was surprised to see such a wild reaction, and he stared at her cautiously. When she had ceased, he waited for a few moments silence. Then he said, "Shh. She'll hear you."

She swiped his hand off. "Don't you touch me!" She suddenly started to cry out of the blue. Mark sat up, taken back by her outbursts. He didn't remember ever seeing Maureen cry, not even when they broke up. Her cries seemed to have grown louder by the minute, and Mark became scared. It felt like he was hurting her through with an invisible sword.

"I'm sorry! God would you shut up?" He panicked. "I'm SORRY. Sorry for everything I've done, or haven't done, or should have done."

He wanted to pull his hair out. He was getting so frustrated. He didn't know what else to do, but apologize. "Is this what you want, Maureen? Me always giving in to you?" He stood up rubbing the back of his neck. He felt cold sweat on his palm. "I can't do anything right, can I? I'm always the one who had to make YOU happy and there isn't a single moment where I can get some peace and quiet!" In his heat and excitement, he stubbed his foot at the coffee table. "Damnit!"

Pain struck, and he stooped over to hold the pain in place. Maureen had stopped crying somewhere between his monologue. She stared at him silently. Feeling the eyes of the world upon him, he couldn't continue. It felt as if she was waiting for him to mess up, to make a remark that she would bark down. He stopped in his tracks, and changed subjects.

"What's the matter with you?" he asked hopelessly.

Her face trembled, as if she was to cry again. "Joanne... she..."

Mark looked at her intently. She seemed really hurt. He hated seeing her this way. "Did she hurt you?"

She snorted again. "Huh, I'd say." She suddenly got up and walked to the kitchen, searching through the cupboards for something. He followed her with his eyes, a bit upset that she didn't give him an actual reply. "What did she do? Damnit Maureen, answer me! Please..."

She slammed a cupboard door, and pounded a closed fist on the counter. "DAMN! I don't have any damn drinks in this damn house! I hate it!" She came out, one hand buried in her face, and the other hand held a saucer. "I hate this apartment!" She threw the saucer like a frisbee and it shattered against the wall. "I hate my life! I hate it, hate it, hate it..."

Mark watched in horror as she dropped to the floor, crying hysterically. He couldn't believe what he was seeing: Maureen Johnson finally breaking in front of his eyes. He gazed at her, a bit frightened. He had never seen her like this before. He went over to her and knelt beside her.

"Stop crying," he said softly. He just wanted her to stop. He wanted her to smile. He gave in again. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to yell, I just- I don't know what the hell is going on. Please tell me what's going on, maybe I can help."

She tried to control her tears and sobs enough to speak, but she stuttered a bit. "She... dumped me... we broke up..." She broke away from their stare, like she couldn't stand looking at him.

He rubbed her back gently. "Hey...hey, you've two split up before...I'm sure she'll be back." He was stung by his own words. Why did he always hope for the best?

She shook her head vigorously, her cries still audible. "Not this time... she's coming tomorrow to take her stuff and I...oh, DAMNIT!" She started all over again.

Mark had run out of ideas. It felt as if everything he was saying was just making it worse. Maybe this was why she broke up with him. He was such a failure.

"Maureen...Maureen, I.." His voice trailed off. He was lost, couldn't think of a word to say. He didn't want to say he was sorry again, especially because it wasn't his fault. He was also afraid that the word had lost all meaning because he had said it so many times. He brewed up some courage. "She...she really meant that much to you?" He almost choked on his words. He couldn't believe he said it.

She avoided eye contact. She didn't answer him for a while, as she looked for the right words to say. "I...don't..know," she said truthfully. Mark observed her carefully as she brought her eyes to his. She looked at him fixedly, and an affection glaze reflected in her eyes. "I guess she did..." She took a deep breath. "I guess... you never realize how much something... someone... means to you... until you lose them."

Mark can feel her presence so close to his. They had moved closer to each other, and she was whispering lowly, yet he was still able to hear her. Their eyes locked, and he couldn't help but become mesmerized by her eyes. She had the most beautiful hazel eyes that glistened in her tears. Carefully, he touched her face softly.

"I know," he whispered. "I know... you meant a lot to me." He couldn't fight it. He just had to look away. It hurt too much.

"Mark...Mark look at me," she said earnestly.

"No," he murmured. He stood up, looking down. "No. No Maureen, I can't take it anymore. You're tearing me apart... and we're not even together! When will it stop?" He had raised his voice a bit, but he wasn't yelling. He was just hurt.

She stood up behind him, and whispered, "What are you talking about?"

Mark felt a well-known emotion riding over him. It was of confusion, frustration, heartache. He walked toward her window. "Ever since you broke up with me, it's like I've still held on. I tried to convince myself that you'd still come back, that you're in some sort of... phase. That's what so great about this camera."

He walked over and retrieved his camera from the couch. He walked back to the window. "You can pretend. You can look at the world through eyes you can create." He turned it on and switfly points it at the girl across the room. "And I've always thought you and me... me and you... who am I kidding?"

Mark looked through his recorder and saw Maureen approach, her image becoming larger and larger, until she put the camera down herself.

"Don't," she persisted. "Please don't hide behind that damn camera anymore, stop pretending everything's okay, when it's not." She touched his shoulder. "Let's just talk. Okay? Like adults? No screaming and yelling."

Again, Mark found this situation funny. Maureen acted as if she was mature and actually serious about talking out their problems, which he knew was strange, even for her. He set his camera on the floor.

"You really are drunk." He started to giggle, until it grew into fits of laughter.

"I am...SO DRUNK!" she laughed along with him. Mark shook his head, whether he was shaking his head of embarassment, or to nod off the ringing in his head, he didn't know. She did a funny little dance, which he thought was cute, and she toppled on the floor.

Mark laughed. "Wait, wait, where's my camera?" He tried to find it, but the room started to spin all of a sudden. He didn't notice that it was at the foot of him. The ringing became louder. "Oh fuck... Maureen do you have any aspirin?"

He fell beside her, his hand to his head, as Maureen laughed. "Yeah...somewhere in the kitchen...I how I hate this part."

She pointed at the television and Mark looked. The Wicked Witch of the West was melting in a puddle of green goo.

"I wish I could do the same right now," she said. "Do you think I can?"

Mark tilted his head to one side thoughtfully. "Melt? You use to make me melt." His head throbbed. He stood up groggily and made his way to her kitchen. "Where did you say it was again?"

She followed him unsteadily. "I dunno... it was there... somewhere." She laid her head against the refrigerator door. Mark thought she fell asleep until she bursted outward.

"Hey! Do you want some pizza?" She took the pizza magnet from the refrigerator. "I'm starving!"

"Hungry?" asked Mark wackily. "How the hell can you be hungry? I feel like I'm gonna vomit." His eyes trained to a tray of bottles and medication. His hand rummaged through every bottle. "Here... I think I found it."

He picked up a small tablet bottle from the tray. He shook it near his ear. "Sounds like aspirin." He tried opening it with no luck. "Children's cap. Do they ever think of the adults trying to open one of these things?" He magically clicked it open. "Ha ha! Got it open!" He did a flex and offered Maureen one.

"Better make it double," she said, and moaned. "My head is about to explode." She keeled over to the floor.

Mark grabbed her by the arm and pulled. "Don't sit there, it's dirty." He took some aspirin before offering it again to Maureen. "Here... it's just as good as alcohol and it makes the pain go away."

She looked at him skeptically. "Does it?"

"It better."

"And what do you mean by dirty?" She stood up agitated and moved to the living room. "Are you saying my apartment is DIRTY?"

He smiled at this inquiry, and followed her, dropping the bottle. He approached her at a steady pace. "Well, hey... a dirty whore living in a dirty house. Makes sense doesn't it?" He didn't realize his slip, but said it as if they were having a casual conversation.

"Is that what you think I am?" she commanded radically.

"I don't know," he answered. "What else do you call someone whose slept with every guy in town, and now is screwing around with other girls? What now? You gonna screw the neighbor's dog next?"

Before he knew it, Maureen slapped him across the face. A sting pounded in his cheek. Mark placed a hand where she hit him.

"Screwing around Mark? If that why you came here?" she demanded. "Would you mind explaining to me what the hell you're doing here in my apartment? It's the middle of the fucking night! Do you want to get screwed up again? Was that what you were hoping for?"

Mark bit his lip. "Maybe that's what I want." He stood over her, trying to retaliate verbally. "Maybe I thrive on your damn pain, Maureen. Maybe, I yearn for your pain. Just maybe getting any shit from you, even if it IS pain, is something that I want, that I need, just as long as it's from you."

"What are you talking about?" she demanded. "It's been a year Mark, a goddamn year, get the fuck over it!"

"I can't Maureen!" he screamed. "I can't- damnit I don't even know what the hell is wrong with me. What the hell IS wrong with me, Maureen?" He was asking her sincerely, gravely. "Why did you leave me?"

"Mark..." she sighed. "I don't want to sound cliche, I really don't, but... it really wasn't you. You were the sweetest guy any girl could wish for. But unfortunately, I'm not any girl. And I wanted... no, I NEEDED more. I needed someone who was more like me. At the time, I thought Joanne WAS the one... I'm not sure if she is now." She walked over to the couch, stumbling a bit, and sat down. She cried into her hands, silently. "I'm not sure of anything now."

He felt absolutely heartbroken. He didn't know if this was how it was when they broke up. He doubt it. She was with someone before he got the chance to blink. She didn't go through the pain like he did. And now she was experiencing the same ache he once did with her. And it was the worse feeling in the world. He went over to the couch and hugged her close.

"Why didn't you tell me that in the first place?" he asked. "I could have been more. I would have done anything to make you happy."

"I'm not sure if it was something you could do. I'm fucked up Mark. It's not your fault. You should find a nice girl, a girl like you." I don't want a girl like me, thought Mark furiously. She continued. "Forget about me, I don't want to mess you up as well. One messed up person is enough."

He ran his fingers through her hair, and let her cry on his blue flannel shirt. "That's the beauty of us. I can't believe you don't see that. Angel and Collins weren't exactly alike and..." he stopped at the mention of Angel. He pulled away from her. "I just wanted to make you happy. Here. Let's get you cleaned up. I didn't bring any extra clothes." He chuckled a bit, feeling the warm tears soak through his clothes.

She smiles through the tears. "It's hopeless...I'm a mess, look at me." She tugged on his blue shirt. "I hate this shirt, by the way."

"Really? You bought it for me."

She looked at him confused. "Did I?"

"You said it brought out my eyes." He laughed, and reminisced.

"I probably did...because...it's so...well, you." She laughed softly. "I've always loved your eyes, you know."

He raised his eyebrows, then smiled. "Thanks. Feel better?" He wiped her tears with his thumb. She smiled.

"No, I don't," she cuddled beside him, her head rested on his chest. "But I'm glad you're here... I might have done something stupid if you weren't..."

Her voice trailed off, but he finished her thought in his mind. He knew somehow that she might have been thinking of April.

"You're okay," comforted Mark, and he looked into her eyes once again. He couldn't help himself falling into them. He leaned over and placed a soft kiss on her lips. Shortly after, he pulled away. "Sorry, I didn't mean to do that."

She didn't respond right away. She touched his lower lip, her gaze never leaving his. She whispered to him. "Yes you did."

"Maureen I still..." He took a gulp, his nerves running wild, but he tried to stay calm. "I still love you."

"Shh," and she came closer to kiss him. Caught off guard, he let her sink into the kiss, until he gave in and kissed her back. Their lips caressed, one on top of the other, as he stroke her face gently. He pulled away after a moment. It felt as if they were back together.

"We can't do this," he said softly. Although he would do anything to have her, he knew this was wrong.

She was breathless, and her cheeks were a slight red, but she smiled a bit. "And why the hell not?"

He looked at her, and smirked. "Hello? Lesbian."

Her eyes began to fill with tears again. "I don't even know who I am anymore." She pulled away and scooted over so she was as far away from him as possible. She looked away, in embarrassment. "But you're probably right. You better go now, Mark. Before we do something that we both regret tomorrow."

It was strange being dismissed by Maureen Johnson this way. Okay, the being dismissed part wasn't strange. But the fact that she was doing it for their own good was strange. But Mark didn't realize it right away. He just felt an inkling about it. He stood up, and reluctantly obeyed her command. He walked toward the door. Feeling dismayed, he laid his head against the wall. No, he thought, this time it's my turn. He turned around.

"I have an idea," he said slyly, and strode over to Maureen. He offered his hand.

She took it, and got up, confused. "What?"

He pecked her hand gently, and lead her to her open bedroom, which he had spotted when he arrived.

"Why don't I spend the night?" he said seductively. He didn't even recognize his own voice.

"Why WOULD you spend the night?" she asked. Her tone became serious. "I don't think it's a good idea. I don't want to hurt you again Mark."

He directed her near her doorway, and looked at her. She was beautiful. She looked inside her bedroom hesitantly.

"If we go in there, I will... and I hate doing this all over again."

He waited for her to enter, a curve forming on his lips. "Would you just shut up for once..." He pulled her close, her waist touching his. "...and get in there?"

He pulled away a bit, and placed a few strands of her hair behind her ear.

She walked in gradually, and he followed behind her. He then looked at her knavishly, and she met him halfway through a passionate kiss. As Mark held her face with one hand, he closed the door with the other. Every where else in the apartment became quiet, empty, except for Mark's camera hidden behind the curtain of Maureen's window, as it blinked a luminous red.