Chapter Eight

Maureen and Collins spent the rest of the day moving his baggage into her apartment. They filled nine boxes: three of clothes, six more of books. Maureen wondered where the hell they would put them, but Collins just laughed and told her not to worry about it. The next thing they needed to do was empty the small room next to Maureen's bedroom. Through the years she had lived in that apartment, Maureen used that room for storage; she put everything there she didn't have the heart to throw away. It was loaded with old clothes, bags and shoes she didn't see for years. They entered the room and she opened the window to let some air and sunshine inside. Collins stared around him, completely shocked. It suddenly dawned on Maureen that getting all of Collins' stuff up the stairs was the easy part. Now they had to clean up that damn room.

"It's pretty small," she apologized and turned to look at Collins. He still looked a little shocked by everything she kept in there.

"It's good," he assured her and gave her a little hug. "Besides, I'm sure it's bigger than you think, it's just that you have so much junk in here you can't see that." She frowned but knew that he was probably right. "I mean look at these stuff!" he added incredulously as he picked up a hideous orange and purple shirt that looked like a remnant from the 70's. "You should consider having a garage sale or something," he joked.

"Maybe we should do one, or we'll never be able to get rid of all this…" she answered, then shrugged. "What can I do? I'm sentimental! I can't just throw these things away!"

"Did you ever even WEAR these things? Gee, Maureen, I'm glad I didn't know you back than!"

"Collins, just shut up and help me put these into boxes," she said, smiling sweetly at him. He smiled back and knelt on the floor beside her. Seeing his smile, Maureen knew that her idea was perfect, for both of them. Collins was so lonely ever since Angel's death, no matter how much they all suggested their love and support. And she? She just couldn't be alone, loneliness would kill her. And having Collins there with her was better than having a cat, she realized. She didn't like cats much, anyway, so bringing Collins over WAS the perfect solution, no doubt.

Collins took another colorful shirt and looked at it thoughtfully. "What the hell where you thinking when you bought these things…"

She wasn't sure if he was talking to her or to himself, but she bursted out laughing anyway. Soon Collins was laughing along with her. Maureen could feel how the last remainders of sadness were slowly fading away. She hardly thought of Mark anymore.

And then she started thinking about him all over again, when she suddenly remembered that woman he talked to in the Life Café earlier. Damn it.

"Maureen? Reeney? Earth to Miss Johnson…" said Collins.

Maureen's eyes snapped open. "What?" she asked weakly. What the hell was wrong with her?

"You weren't here for a second, are you okay?" asked Collins, his expression concerned.

Was she okay? Mark was only talking to that girl for five minutes, whoever she was, and why wouldn't he? He should finally let go of the past.

Besides, she was over him.

She looked at Collins and flashed him a reassuring smile. "I'm fine, I'm just…" her voice trailed off, she didn't know how to finish. What was she, really?

That was absurd, Mark didn't want to have anything to do with her and she really couldn't blame him that time. Her thoughts wandered involuntarily back to that night. What happened there? How could they end up in the same bed and remember nothing of it?

"Maureen?" Collins touched her arm slightly. She turned to look at him, her gaze still somewhat perplexed. He noticed it but said nothing about it. "Look, I'll take the boxes downstairs and go get us something to eat, okay?" he asked gently. She nodded, unfocused. "Sure you're okay?"

"I'm fine, go," she said quietly. Collins nodded and picked up as much boxes as he could carry in his strong arms. It was much easier now, though, because they contained mostly clothes. "Do you need help with these?" she added as he carried the boxes to the living room and put them down only to slip on his trench coat.

"No, of course not. I'll be back soon, okay?" he smiled at her, picked up the boxes again and left.

As Maureen closed the door behind him, everything went silent again, except for an ambulance's siren. Its sound was a piercing cry in the distance. Maureen shuddered. These sudden siren cries always made her think of April. The image of her friend lying pale and lifeless in that tub was still fresh and alive in Maureen's mind. She was the one who found April along with that terrible note she left behind for Roger; she was the one who called for an ambulance even though she could tell it was too late, that there was really no hope for the girl in the bath-tub.

Damn it, April, how could you, she thought, her eyes filling with tears. She moved to her bedroom and went out to the fire escape. She needed fresh air. Whenever she thought back of that night she felt as if she was suffocating. The memories haunted her for so long, it was so hard to let them go.

Roger was hysterical that night. His blood test in the hospital confirmed April's note- he had AIDS. Mark stayed with him in the hospital, next to April's body. He was nearly hysterical himself, she remembered and wiped the tears that were suddenly streaming down her face. Maureen was the only one in control on that nightmarish week. She didn't shed a single tear over her dead friend. She called April's parents and made all the funeral's arrangements. She fell completely apart when they got into the church and she saw April lying in her coffin. She looked so beautiful, peaceful, angelic. She WAS an angel now, Maureen suddenly realized, and from that moment on, she couldn't control her tears. Mark held her for the entire service, and when they got back to the loft he put her to bed and snuggled close to her until she fell asleep. She could still feel his arms around her if she tried hard enough. Their last encounter, two days ago on her doorway, was much more clear in her mind. How does it feel being… alone? She had a terrible feeling she was about to find it out.

Soon Collins was back and they had a picnic of Chinese take out on the living-room floor. They still had a lot of unpacking to do, but at least Collins' room was empty and clean, so they decided to leave it for the next day. It was getting really late anyway.

"You can take the couch, or we can share my bed," said Maureen. "I don't kick or snore," she reminded with a small smile. She watched Collins as he struggled with his chopsticks, and burst out laughing. "You are the most stylish person I know but you can't even control two damn sticks!" she laughed and got up, feeling all her sore muscles in the process. "I'll get you a fork." She disappeared in the kitchen. She came back several minutes later with a fork for him, still smiling. She was amazed at the way he was able to make all her troubles and bad feelings just go away so fast.

"So tell me something, Reeney," he started, still smiling himself. "How is it that Joanne left and at the very same night Mark was already here?" His tone didn't carry the slightest accusation but rather pure amusement.

Maureen's smile disappeared at once and was replaced by a distant and contemplative expression. "Will you believe me if I tell you I have absolutely no idea?" she asked honestly.

It made Collins laugh. "Of course not."

"Well, too bad, because I don't remember," she said bitterly. Collins looked at her, suddenly intrigued. She sighed. "Joanne left and I was… I don't know, I took it really bad," she started quietly. "I got drunk, I mean, REALLY drunk, and I remember that Mark suddenly showed up here not looking so hot himself… and the next thing I know, he's in my bed when I wake up!"

Collins just kept laughing. "This is so you, not to remember something like that!" he said. His wide smile nearly cracked his face.

"Hey, it didn't end up there. We had a huge fight the next morning and then suddenly JOANNE is there to pick up her stuff!" Collins' laughter grew impossibly louder. Maureen frowned. "Collins, shut up! It's not fucking funny, they nearly killed each other in my bedroom!"

"Ah, I'd give everything to be there! Do you think maybe Mark has it on film?"

Maureen wasn't so amused. "He'd better not," she said shortly, then stopped. She didn't even remember Mark had his camera with him, and if he didn't, it made no sense. He would forget anything at home, even his wallet, but not that damn camera.

"So how did it end?" asked Collins once his laughter was finally subsided.

"Mark said some awful things to me and left me here with Joanne, who was even more awful than he was."

"I'm sure he didn't mean it," said Collins gently as they moved to the kitchen to throw the empty food boxes.

Maureen shook her head. "Oh no. He did mean it. He meant it all, but I'm really okay with it, you know. I'm over him." Collins shot her a skeptical look. "Anyway, I'm glad because he finally lets go of the past. You saw him with that girl in Life earlier."

"Oh yeah, the pretty one," remarked Collins and smiled playfully. Maureen shot him a warning glare. "What, she was pretty."

"Whatever!" said Maureen and yawned, she suddenly realized how tired she was. "I'm going to take a shower and then I'm off to bed. I'm beaten." Collins mumbled something, but she no longer heard him as she slipped out of her clothes and got into the shower.

First when she heard the doorbell she thought she imagined it. It was nearly 10 and she was so exhausted she nearly fell asleep under the streaming water. "Collins, can you see who is it?" she shouted. She hoped he could hear her.

She opened her closet looking for her night shirt but couldn't find it. I really need to do some laundry soon, she thought as another item caught her eye. It was Mark's blue flannel shirt. She shrugged, then put it on. It still carried his scent, but it was really faint now.

"Hey Collins, who was that?" she asked as she padded down the hallway.

"Just… the guys," he answered carefully.

She walked into the living room, where Collins was sitting with Mimi and Roger.

"Collins man, you didn't day it was a SLUMBER party!" whined Roger, clearly amused by the way she was dressed.

Maureen suddenly realized that he might recognize Mark's shirt, but it was too late to back away and change it. She turned her gaze from Roger to Collins, totally confused. "What… party?" she asked weakly.

"My 'welcome to your new apartment' party," he answered, smiling sheepishly at her. The bastard, he knows I can never resist that smile, she thought.

"Maureen, I'm really disappointed, you know," said Roger in a false serious tone.

She looked at him through tired eyes. "Why is that?"

"I honestly expected from you to go to bed with something much more… ummm… sexy and lacy, than this dorkishly old thing!" teased Roger. Mimi smacked him on his arm playfully for that , and Maureen thought he quite deserved it. She was relieved that he was too busy teasing her about the shirt to realize who it actually belonged to, for Mark often wore it. She glanced at Collins. If he recognized the shirt to be Mark's, he didn't show any sigh of it.

"We don't have anything for a party, I hardly have enough food in the fridge," she reminded him. "And it's late and I'm tired and what the hell were you all thinking, planning a party behind my back, damn it!" she started getting really upset.

"We bought some ice cream and beer on our way," said Mimi, "don't you worry about it, Maureen."

"Oh, come on, Reeney. Go change. Please? For me?" asked Collins, pouting his lips. What a dirty trick, he knows what this face does to me. She always felt like she was melting when he looked at her like that. She used the trick on Mark at their time. It always worked.

She finally relented, and headed back to her bedroom in a defeated sigh.

"Hey, where's Joanne?" asked Mimi matter-of-factly.

Maureen snorted before she let the door being shut behind her. She let Collins do the explanations, since it was his damn idea anyway. He deserved that, for pulling that surprise party out of nowhere. Something's backwards, she thought suspiciously, shouldn't I be the one throwing the party?

The doorbell rang again just as she buttoned up her jeans. Her heart quickened its pace as she heard Mark's voice among the other familiar voices in the other room. Her mind was reeling like a roller coaster. Yet she tensed as she heard another unfamiliar voice. Maureen frowned as she moved closer to the door, black shirt in hand. It was a female's voice, she realized. Was that the woman she saw with Mark at the café that morning?

Her black shirt dropped to the floor, forgotten, as Maureen strode back to her closet. Fight fire with fire, she thought as she quickly scanned her sexy tanktops' collection. Collins would get his challenge all right, she decided as she chose one shirt and pulled it over her head. It was baby blue and it showed off more than it covered, but it had more than that for a benefit, Maureen thought as she opened her bedroom door and went to join her friends; that shirt ALWAYS made Mark sweat.

Everyone fell completely silenced as Maureen entered, then conversations resumed. She ignored Collins' friends who were also there, staring at her shamelessly, and made her way to the other side of the room, where Mark and the woman were engaged in a quiet conversation. He sat with his back to her, and didn't even turn his head when she entered. She caught Collins' reassuring smile as she passed by but didn't stop. She had to get to Mark before she lost her courage. Her drama queen smile was already plastered on her face when she gently tapped on Mark's shoulder.

"Hey."

Mark turned reluctantly, casually, as if he wasn't expecting anything of what he was about to behold. His breath was caught in his throat when he took in her appearance. Her smile broadened. That shirt still had her magic, after all. "Maur… Maureen?"

"The one and only! What's up? Nice of you to stop by!"

He looked surprised, nearly thunder stricken. Maureen wasn't sure whether it was because of her shirt or because of the fact that she was actually speaking to him again, but it didn't really matter. "Umm… I stopped by for Collins… now if you don't mind…" he said, gesturing at the woman who was sitting awkwardly next to him.

Maureen's eyes narrowed for a split second as she took in the woman's appearance. Yes, she was very pretty, in a dorkish kind of way, just Mark's style, and she had glasses too. Boy, these two are a match made in heaven. She pushed that bitter thought away and flashed her sweetest smile in the woman's direction. "I'm sorry, I don't believe we've met! Marky, what's wrong with your manners? I'm sure your mother taught you better than that!" she teased, smacking his arm playfully.

Mark couldn't do much but stare at her. He looked completely hopeless, as if he wasn't sure how he should react. He turned to the woman and smiled apologetically at her. Then he looked back at Maureen. He was sweating already, she noticed in great satisfaction. "Maureen, this is Michelle... Michelle, Maureen. Michelle is studying epic poetry, and Maureen here... well she does her breasts... I mean best!" he blushed deep red, and shook his head. He looked very much embarrassed. "Now, Maureen, if you don't mind?" he hissed.

"Actually, I need to steal you away for a second, if you don't mind?" she turned her look from Mark to Michelle. She didn't really wait for Michelle's approvement, just tugged at Mark's shirt and pulled him away.

"Maureen… what's going on?" he asked weakly as she dragged him to the hallway.

"I need to talk to you for a second, come on!"

He frowned at her, then remember something and looked over her shoulder. "Please excuse us! I'll be right there!" then he turned to face Maureen again, clearly upset.

"Don't you worry, she won't go anyway..." she said cheerfully. "So what is epic poetry anyway?"

Mark raised one suspicious eyebrow at her question. "It's the study of ancient storytelling in the forms of stylistic... hey what do you care, anyway?"

She giggled. "I don't!"

"Maureen, this is nonsense, I'm going to go," he said, but failed in sounding determined. His voice actually trembled.

She gave him a second to pull himself together before she hit again. "Hey, wait!" she said, grabbed his shirt and pulled him against the wall. Then she moved closer to him, until their lips nearly touched. "I said… I needed to talk…" she murmured against his ear.

He swallowed, hard, but didn't push her away. "Maureen, have you… been drinking again?" he asked weakly.

She pretended to be offended. "Me? I'm not drunk, what makes you say that!"

He smirked. "Well, when your lesbian ex-girlfriend tells you to shove off, then pushes you against the wall... you begin to suspect things. No, seriously now, Maureen, I dunno what you're trying to do but..." he started, trying to slip away.

Maureen wouldn't let him go. She couldn't. He couldn't resist her, she could tell, no matter how hard he tried to conceal it. So she did the only thing she knew that would make him stay. She pouted her lips and flashed her best smile at him. "I just want to talk. Please? For a minute?"

Now he looked panicked. "Go! Talk! Make it quick!"

She came closer to him again and tugged at his shirt, as if she was trying to smooth an invisible wrinkle. He followed her hand as if hypnotized. She could feel his heartbeat quicken under her touch. When he was well distracted, she started speaking in a low, seductive voice. "I just wanted to... apologize... for what happened two days ago. You just ran off and didn't give me time to explain... or apologize... but we're friends. I want us to stay friends, whatever happens." She started slipping her hand down his chest, never breaking eye contact.

"Maureen!" he shrieked suddenly, "Maureen... stop... that tickles!"

He was so adorable, pulling that dorkish six-year-old act, she had to fight her involuntary impulse to grab him and kiss him. She pulled her most innocent expression on and moved closer again. "What, I'm not doing anything…" she murmured, "So what do you say, Marky?… friends?"

"I… I say…" She didn't give him a chance and started tickling him all over again. He flinched and tried to move away from her grasp, but there was no where to go, for he was still standing against the wall. "STOP! Let me go, Maureen!" he laughed. They were both breathless when she finally stopped. "Are you crazy?"

She got him trapped, her two arms snaking around his waist, so he really couldn't go anywhere. She shot him a playful look and whispered seductively, "I don't think I am… what do you think?…"

He was sweating, and she was sure his heart would burst into million pieces in a moment, but instead he looked at her, very serious all of a sudden.

"I can't do this, please, Maureen… stop…"

Her smile gradually faded. She slowly removed her hands from his waist. Not that she didn't expect that, but she really got into it by now. "Okay, I just… wanted us to be friends again."

"You know... I don't think I can do that," he said softly before he started going away. She stared at him for a second, then pulled herself together and hurried after him. When she caught up with him, right before he stepped back into the living room, she slapped his ass.

"Love that jeans, by the way!"

That slap caught Mark completely off guard. He stumbled forward, tripping on his own feet. Luckily, he didn't fall flat on his face in the process. He turned to her and shot her an irritated look, then entered the living room without further words.

Maureen was still a little breathless herself as she leaned against the wall and took several slow, even breaths until the rhythm of her heart steadied. She would kill Collins the next day, but it was surely worth it. She smiled victoriously. The last word was hers again.