Chapter Seven

Always eat your vegetables, stand up straight, finish college, choose a steady profession, find a decent, Jewish girl. Mark's brain was rattling with all the things his parents told him to do because it was for his own good. Recently, he's been wondering what would happen if he followed the path his parents paved for him. Would he have been happier? He didn't want to think about it. He hated the fact that there was a possibility where his parents ended up right. He needed to prove himself. He could survive on his own. He could do things for himself.

He still ate his vegetables. Directing was a fine profession, or so he wanted to believe. He still stood up straight... sometimes. He was doing everything for his own good. And yet... it felt as if the whole world was collapsing before his eyes. Why couldn't he just forget her?

Mark rubbed his eyes under his glasses sleepily. Although it was morning, and he had been awake for two hours, he was still tired. The hangover two days ago was just now fading, his thought process still screwed up, but he tried all he could to forget everything that happened that night... or forget everything he failed to remember that night... man, he couldn't even forget properly! He sighed helplessly and folded the old letter back into four, and placed it back in his small box. He put the lid on, shoved it carelessly on top of his closet, and shut the door.

He walked into the living room hopelessly. What was he supposed to do now? He would have filmed something, but he couldn't find his camera anywhere. He didn't remember the last time he had it, or where he could have put it. He cleaned up the reels that were laying around on the weekend, and searched endlessly for it, but with no luck. He slumped on the couch, and stared at the ceiling. He didn't feel like editing either.

He pulled himself into the kitchen, and opened the refrigerator. What did they have that hasn't gone bad?

"Haven't you learned your lesson?" a voice asked from behind. Mark looked over his shoulder to see Roger watching him attentively.

"No more alcohol," said Mark. Roger grinned.

"Good. I threw every bottle out this morning. I was getting really worried about you."

"You're a good friend. So... what are we having? We've got our lovely choices of sour milk, eight-month-old bread, and...I don't even know what the hell that green stuff is in the back. What are we going to do?"

"Mimi and I were going to the Life Café for brunch. Why don't you join us?"

"I don't know."

"No...I insist you go with us or else."

"Or else what?"

"Or else we'll use Mimi's handcuffs to chain you to your bed where you'll stay for the rest of your life...or until you die. I'm nice, I'll give you the choice."

They were both smirking, and Mark agreed to go with him. They engaged in a light conversation while waiting for Mimi, and Mark felt his spirits lifting a little. At least there was Roger, who had always been there beside him when he needed him. Roger didn't ask much questions, and didn't pry into his business as much, but he seemed to always know what was going on, more or less. Mark didn't need to tell him everything, even though there were times that Mark told him whatever it was on his mind. They were just sitting around, when the phone rang, and they screened.

"Speak..." a beep followed. "Mark Cohen? My name is Genevieve Johansen, and I was recommended to call you from Mr. and Mrs. Holsberg..."

"Hey, a job," said Roger to Mark.

"How nice of the Holsberg's," said Mark.

"... Our little girl, Mariana, just turned a year old, and we would like to take a family portrait, and well... we loved the photo of the Holsberg hanging above their fireplace. We have a little boy too, Daniel. We're willing to pay a generous sum. Please contact us at 915-3238. The best time to call is late afternoon, or just leave us a message. Thank you."

Mark scribbled the number quickly in a pad on their coffee table, and the name Johansen. Finally, something to keep his mind on, and something that'll give him some extra cash.

"Thank God it's a photo session and not a film shoot. I can't find my camera anywhere, and it's irritating the hell out of me," said Mark.

"I wish I could help you out," said Roger. He grabbed his guitar from behind the sofa, and started thrumming the strings. Roger looked at his friend curiously.

"You know, why don't I teach you a few chords?"

"Huh?"

"Yeah, come on. It'll help you relax."

"I don't know. I'm not that musically coordinated. Besides you said you'd kill me if I ever touched your guitar."

"Well... it's been through worse. Come on." He handed him his guitar, and Mark took it indecisively. He didn't know much about guitars or how to hold them for that matter. He tried to imitate Roger, angling the instrument in a slant direction, and positioned his fingers until he was able to strum it properly. He looked at Roger abashed.

"Good. Now since you don't have a plectron-"

"I do too!"

"A pick, Marky," Roger cleared up. "What you use to pluck the strings."

"Oh." Mark bit his lip and Roger didn't seem to mind the fact that Mark was an idiot when it came to playing a guitar. For the next half hour, Roger lectured him on chords, and melodies, and even provided him with his own tips and ways to think of a catchy tune. Luckily for Mark, he was a fast learner and was patient so he has caught on quickly. He admitted he would never reach the esteem of Roger's greatness, or even the guy with the squeegee, but he was alright.

The guitar was relaxing and it was something they both were able to share. Ever since Mimi, he hadn't been seeing his friend much. He didn't mind sometimes because he was glad to see Roger happy. He remembered a time when Roger was very distant, and vulnerable, right after April died. And even though Mark did all he could to stay near him, he still couldn't get a word in edgewise from his afflicted friend. But now, he was so happy.

This could become a nice hobby on the side, thought Mark as he practiced the chords, while Roger watched him observantly. Lyrics wouldn't be so hard either because Mark too had a way with words. Writing those screenplays weren't acts of Shakespeare, but they were good enough.

A knock came on the door, startling them both. Roger called them to come in.

"Hey boys," said Mimi, as she closed the door behind her. She was in an awfully cheerful mood, she had a glimmer in her eyes, and her lovely curls tied back. She walked to sit next to Roger. They kissed, and grinned at each other, then she looked at Mark.

"Mark, what are you doing with Roger's guitar?" she asked in a false sense of shock.

"Well I was going to destroy it, but..."

"You mean that's not what you're doing to it now?" asked Roger jokingly.

"Haha," said Mark. He played a few chords which sounded like a bad version of Musetta's Waltz.

"Yeah... you're a regular Steve Tyler," commented Mimi.

"I'd like to see you behind the camera," said Mark.

"Behind... or on?" said Mimi striking a pose. Mark shook his head smiling.

"Come on let's go to Life," said Roger standing. "You can borrow my guitar any time you'd like. Well, not if I'm using it. Or on Mondays, Fridays, or Saturdays. And after 9PM. Oh, and it doesn't leave this house."

"Would you like me to sign a waiver too?"

Mimi laughed, and Roger just gave him a look. He then smiled, and they headed out the door for the Life Café. All the way there, Roger and Mimi teased Mark about his playing. Mark thought some of their jokes funny, but then he began feeling foolish and embarrassed. He just wanted to play to relax, get his mind off other troubling events. They didn't need to make a big scene about it. He didn't want to complain, but he started to feel so alone again. He didn't have anyone to stick up for him, even though he knew they were just kidding around. It still was nice to have someone firing back their own shots... he knew who use to do that for him...

They entered Life Café, quite noisily, Mark sticking behind them. Mimi and Roger went a bit further to get a table, and Mark lagged behind, hoping that nobody would notice that he was the target of their laughter. Then he saw her. Maureen.

Their eyes met and he froze. His expression was blank, and he couldn't read hers either. Just look through her, Mark thought desperately, look as if she doesn't exist. He stared at her, into her, and it happened. She slowly turned away, and he exhaled slowly. She broke away first. This is going to be harder than I thought, Mark told himself.

He strolled over to the small table that Roger and Mimi were already sitting in, and he took the seat across from them. He looked down at the table.

"Collins and Maureen are here. Let's go say hello," suggested Mimi.

"Yeah okay," said Roger and he turned to Mark. "You... want to come?Mark shook his head. "No, I'm not feeling too well. You go ahead, tell Collins I said hi and that I'll meet up with him later."

"Okay," said Roger. Mimi gave Roger a worried look, and Roger whispered lowly, "don't worry about him." They got up, but before they left for Collins and Maureen Roger said,

"We'll be right back." He gave Mark a reassuring smile, and Mimi placed a loving hand on his shoulder.

"Don't miss us too much," she said softly and winked at him. He smiled. She always made him feel better. They both did. They walked over to Collins and Maureen, and Mark was once again alone with his thoughts. It felt awkward being in the same room with Maureen. He had just told her the last time he saw her that he didn't ever want to see him again. This was something he would talk to Angel about. He always looked up to her for advice. Since she was always the one spreading love around the gang, Mark always seemed to take her as a mentor, a true angel. When she left the world, he would try to do what she used to do, and reunite everyone when they were all fighting. But what could he do for himself?

"Hi."

Mark lifted his head, and saw a stranger standing in front of him, coffee mug in hand. She had long, dark red hair which spiraled down her fair colored skin. She was a nice build, with nice features, a very pretty face, and green eyes perched behind a thin-framed glasses, and high cheekbones. He couldn't help, but stare. She was so pretty.

"Hi," he replied. He wondered what she needed. She looked at him as if she knew him from somewhere. "I'm sorry, have we met?"

"Two mornings ago you were in my building, you bumped into me, don't you remember? And then that night, you came looking for Maureen. Mind if I sit down?"

"Umm..." Mark was still trying to take in everything she had just said. She talked so fast, and had the original New York accent. She sure wasn't the shy type, like he was, but he couldn't help but become attracted. That evening? She must live in the same building as Maureen, he thought. Right... she was the woman he bumped into when leaving.

"I remember you from that morning... but that evening?"

She seemed to have ignored his comment because she said, "You were deserted by your friends, I see." She gestured to his friends at the other table. "Do you know her long?"

He was afraid that she meant Maureen. He tried to pretend that he didn't know what she was talking about. "I'm sorry, who?"

She looked at him stunned. "Maureen! You came looking for her that night, you knocked on my door by mistake, don't you remember?"

Don't you remember? That question echoed in his ears. He had heard it and thought about it so many times, it suddenly became funny. He laughed a bit. "Actually, this may sound weird, but I don't. I must have been that bad."

She smiled. "I'm Michelle, by the way."

"Mark. I'm Mark." He looked at her warmly. She was so sweet to him, but he really didn't feel like sympathy visits. He was depressed enough. "You don't need to do this, you know. They didn't leave me for long... I don't think."

She looked kind of hurt, which was not Mark's intention at all. "You looked very lonely so I thought you'd want some company..." she looked as if she was about to leave.

"No!" said Mark, trying not to give her the wrong impression. "No, I don't mind your company... it's kinda nice. It's just... I never expected any, and well..." he trailed off. He really did enjoy having her there. No one had ever come up to him uninvited before. No great looking girl anyway.

"Why are you not sitting with them? They look like they're having fun." She gestured to them, and he looked over at the gang. Roger and Mimi had bursted out laughing at Collins who seemed to have been telling them a funny story. Maureen, however, looked distracted, and didn't express any form of interest.

"Well, I..." started off Mark. He had just met her, he didn't want to give anything away. "There's just some unresolved issues that I don't really want to talk about. It's okay, I'm use to being alone."

"That's so sad, how can you even say that, no one is supposed to be used to such a thing!" She fawned over him, and he felt himself flushing.

"You haven't met Mark Cohen. Director, Filmmaker, Photographer, That Lonely guy Over There."

"Oh come on, it can't be that bad! You seem like a really nice guy, and so do those guys over there. You should be lucky to have them. Better than living alone in a tiny apartment with a red cat that doesn't even come when he's called."

"You live alone?"

"Yeah. Basically I'm from Brooklyn, that is, my parents are. But since the school I chosen is in this area, I thought it best if I found my own place here. "

"Oh, what are you majoring in?" asked Mark interested. She was one of the first he's met that actually went through with college.

"Promise you won't laugh?"

What could she possibly be majoring in? thought Mark, and promised.

"Generally speaking it's literature, but I'm more interested in epic poetry."

Mark raised a steady eyebrow. "Epic... poetry?" It was kind of strange, but she was so different... no one like he's ever met before, and he really started to like her. Not only was she a good conversationist, but she did things other people wouldn't do. He liked that in a girl. "That's not bad... but in New York?"

"They don't teach that, or specialize in it, in so many places. It was either New York or Seattle, and Seattle was too far away for me."

"Well New York is the place to be I guess." Lame, lame, lame, Mark cursed at himself. He tried to save himself. "But I would have loved to film Seattle."

"You're in the movie business? How exciting! Have I seen any of your work?"

"Umm." He had to laugh. "I'm not at all famous. I film birthday parties, weddings... oh God, this is embarrassing."

She smiled at him, looking at him adoringly. "That's work too, I guess. I really wouldn't know." She then suddenly turned serious. "I will go if you want to be alone. I mean, I just barged to this table uninvited and all..."

No! "No, don't! I..." He tried to stir up some courage. "I really enjoy having you with me. I'm glad you barged in."

Her eyes twinkled. "I'm glad I barged in too."

Mark laughed as if he felt like he was a little boy again. "It feels like my Bar Mitzvah all over again." He thought of his embarrassing speech that day he turned thirteen. Oh no, he thought to himself shamefully, why did my glasses have to fall off that moment?

"Are you Jewish too? How unbelievable!"

She's Jewish! Someone that can understand him. "Small world isn't it? There's always pressure from my parents to become something more... but I chose another path."

"My parents are very supportive. When they realized I wasn't going to be the doctor they wanted me to be they said, 'that's okay Michelle, you can do well as a teacher too.' That is, when I finish my college degree, which won't be happening very soon, since I just started." She stopped her speech and looked at her watch. "Oh my, look at the time, I gotta run, I have a class in like 30 minutes! It was nice meeting you."

Mark stood up as she did. Nice meeting you too... wait! Before you leave, would you... would you mind... I mean, would you like to meet up later? Maybe I can show you some of my work... if you're interested." Mark had just realized what he just said. He wanted to kick himself. Show her your work? You dork! She'll get the wrong impression!

She looked down bashfully then smiled. "Sure, I guess that will be nice. Well, you know where I live, I'll be home around four this afternoon."

"Okay, I'll meet up with you then..." Mark said this slowly, thinking about Maureen's apartment. Why couldn't she have lived somewhere else? Ah well, it didn't matter. He was lucky. He made a new friend. And a pretty one, at that. "I'll see you later... Michelle."

She smiled again, waved goodbye, and left without another word. Mark couldn't help but smile too, and he couldn't wipe it off even if he tried. He almost giggled when Mimi and Roger suddenly appeared in the seats across from him.

"Marky..." cooed Mimi, batting her eyelashes. Oh no, he thought. Here we go. And yet, he still couldn't stop smiling.

"Who was that Mark?" asked Roger. He had a sleek grin too.

"A girl... Michelle... what?" They kept staring, as if they knew something he didn't, and wanted to rub it in his face.

"Michelle, that's a pretty name," said Roger.

"Yeah, and that's a pretty girl," said Mimi.

"And you're a pretty boy," said Roger rolling his eyes at his own remark, "so what does that tell us?"

"Nothing. We're just... acquaintances."

"Tell us Mark! What does she do?" asked Mimi.

"She's a student. Epic poetry." He tried to play it off coolly.

"Epic poetry, what like... the Odyssey?"

"Ooh, perfect pronunciation, Roger," teased Mark. "Yes. She's Jewish too." Mark caught himself. He was actually bragging about her.

"Pretty, intelligent, Jewish... seems like a perfect match," said Roger. "Now tell me... she's human right? No scales or anything?"

"Haha," said Mark. "She's... something."

"Something good or something bad?" asked Mimi, leaning her chin on her knuckles, her elbows on the table.

"Good. She's cute."

Mimi squealed then laughed. "Mark! I'm so happy for you!"

"I'm not getting married." Mark looked at Roger for help, but Roger just grinned at him. Mark didn't want to show it, so he did all he could to suppress it, but he felt as pleased as Mimi. He was pretty excited.

For the rest of the afternoon, he couldn't stop thinking about Michelle. He wondered how a girl like her would ever fall for someone like him, at first glance anyway. He didn't have the style Collins had, the handsome features Roger had, the sweet lure of Mimi, the loving heart of Angel, the seductiveness of Maur...

No, Mark thought, stopping himself. It must be something else. Pity, oh God, he hoped it wasn't that. He was setting up his 35mm camera, just in case he would be needing it, when Roger knocked on his bedroom door. It was half open anyway, so he let himself in.

"Collins called," said Roger. "He's... He's moving in with Maureen." Mark didn't say anything. Hearing the name aloud hurt him. He let Roger continue. "There's going to be a home welcoming party, just so he could catch up with everyone. He expects to see you there."

Mark turned to him. "I don't know."

"Is it her?"

Mark looked to the ceiling as if he couldn't care it. "What am I going to do? I can't see her anymore. It hurts too much."

"I know." Although Roger didn't know about that night, he knew that Mark was still hurting about Maureen. "But it's Collins, man."

Mark nodded. "I'll be there." This was going to be the worse night.

"Hey, why don't you bring that Michelle chick? It would be great because she lives right there, and you wouldn't be so lonely." Mark smiled at him. He was glad Roger understood his feelings. Roger knew that he was leaving Mark alone because of Mimi.

"I think that's a great idea," said Mark.