Chapter Ten
It took Maureen nearly all day, the next day, to brew enough courage to return the blue flannel shirt to its owner. Although she had told Mark she'd burn it, she knew that she would never dare do such a thing, and that saying she would suddenly seemed very rash. Besides, it was only fair, under the circumstances; Mark said some terrible things to her, too. Burn the past. Burn us. Maybe it's better that way. She still couldn't believe he actually told her that. She knew she'd never forget the expression on his face when he did. It wasn't pure hate, or anything of that kind- it was a mixture of bitterness, distance and complete blankness, the kind of expression one would never expect Mark to have. She really believed that he meant everything he had said, up until that flirting incident at the party the night before. Going beyond Mark's typical (yet very cute) embarrassment and ignoring the fact that he avoided her for the entire time afterwards, Maureen could definitely feel it. The old spark was obviously still there.
That fact changed everything, as far as Maureen was concerned. If anything, it had left her even more confused than she already was. When she first dumped Mark and became a lesbian, she honestly thought she could never be with a man again, that no man can excite or satisfy her the way Joanne, as a woman, did. Especially not Mark. But then again... being so close to him the way she was... it changed whatever she came to believe in so far. It felt so right. Yes, it started as a totally innocent game, but it soon got to a point where it wasn't a game anymore, and they both knew it. There was something electrifying about it, Maureen had no doubts Mark felt it too, or he wouldn't have run off. Until he did, it was just like old times again. She suddenly found herself missing old times.
Who are you, Maureen Johnson? She asked herself wistfully as she got out of the subway station. She was momentarily blinded by the afternoon sun. She wore her sunglasses and headed to Mark and Roger's building. Who the hell am I? The question still echoed mercilessly in her mind as she got to the building. And she had no good answer to it, she suddenly realized.
When she left Mark for Joanne, becoming a lesbian seemed like the right thing to do, but now? She wasn't even sure what she was anymore. It was quite terrifying, not knowing who and what you are, she thought as she climbed up the stairs, passing Mimi's apartment, on her way to their loft on the top floor.
She didn't even think of what would she tell him if he'd been there. They didn't speak to one another for the rest of the party, but she heard from Collins that he seemed happy with that girl Michelle. Their attempt to leave the party unnoticed last night had failed, for Maureen did notice them slipping out of her apartment, but said nothing. His parents would love Michelle, especially that awful father of his. Not only because she was Jewish, but also because she went to college, she was educated and polite, she didn't smoke or drink. She was everything that Maureen wasn't. AND she could sing, like she wasn't perfect enough without having such a wonderful voice. She was the perfect addition for Mark's perfect family. Maureen actually met her in the hallway that morning, and Michelle was the sweetest she could be, and had that small satisfied grin that refused to leave her face. That grin made Maureen so upset without her even being aware of it.
God, what is wrong with me?
She should be happy for him, she knew that. She left him, he was greatly traumatized by that for so long and now he was finally getting over it. He finally found himself the nice girl his parents always hope he'd find... a girl just like him. She needed to be very happy, even if that meant that he'd marry Michelle and leave New York to live with her and their perfect family somewhere in the suburbs, with their three perfect children and their perfect small dog.
Oh, what are you thinking! He's not marrying her, for God's sake, he's known her for, what, two days now! This is Mark! She'll be lucky if he's willing to sleep with her before they are engaged!
Oh, shit, IS he sleeping with her?...
Maureen hesitated near their door, clutching the paper bag to her chest for support. She could hear the sound of Roger's guitar from the other side of the door. Was Mark there, too?
She knocked, but no one answered. She knocked again, louder, and that time the music ceased. There was a rustle on the other side as if someone was coming closer to the door, the sound of a the knob turning, and the door opened. Roger stood there staring at her, his expression both surprised and suspicious. He looked as if he had just woke up, but then again, that was Roger. He always looked like that.
"Maureen? Hi," he said, a bit puzzled, as if she had never been her there before.
Maureen managed a weak smile. "Hey, Roger." He still looked somewhat puzzled. "What?"
"Ummm... nothing." There was the slightest suspicion in his voice, though he desperately tried to conceal it with a smile. Nonetheless, Maureen noticed it. "What's up?" he asked. "Missed me already?"
She flashed him a flirtacious grin. "I always miss YOU, Roger." She suddenly realized that they were still standing on his doorway, and he didn't show the slightest intention of letting her in. "Are you gonna ask me in?"
Roger stared at her for a second, then moved aside. "Oh, right, come in, sorry," he mumbled. He closed the door behind them and they just stood there awkwardly in the middle of the hallway, carefully glancing at one another. It was an ill-chosen situation; Maureen knew he was still mad at her for the way she ended her relationship with Mark. She couldn't blame him. Mark was his best friend and she knew how much she hurt him. Not only did she leave him, but it was for another woman, of all things. Strange, she didn't really care about it at the time. She had never thought of how much it'd hurt him, she just dropped the bomb on him and left the next day. Yes, she and Roger still talked from time to time, but it wasn't like before. Now his tone always carried that cold, distant intonation, or he was just acting weird next to her, just as he did at the moment.
Okay, we won't get anywhere unless I take control over here, she thought and moved into their living-room. He followed her silently, and she knew he was asking himself what the hell was she doing there. She hadn't been there for several months. The last time she had been there was on New Year Eve, when she and Joanne brought Mimi there, after they found her in the park.
"Can I..." she started, motioning at their sofa. His acoustic guitar leaned against the coffee table.
That seemed to break his numb state of mind as he realized what she meant and quickly nodded. "Oh, yeah, sure, sit down." She did. Roger followed. "Did... did Collins send you here for something?"
Maureen wrinkled her forehead. Does he think I'm Collins' messenger girl? "No... he didn't, why?"
"Because... you're here. Was there something you needed?"
She ignored the sarcasm his voice carried. "Yes, actually there was. I mean is. There's something I needed to bring back here... for Mark," she looked over her shoulder. "Where is he, by the way?" she added matter-of-factly.
Roger shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "He's not here," he answered quickly.
Too quickly, Maureen noticed. She raised an eyebrow and did her best looking surprised. "Oh? Started going out again, hasn't he?"
Roger looked at her strangly. "He's been out... when we were at your house the other night, remember? Technically he was inside, but he was out of the house. His house, that is."
He was rambling. He could be really stupid if he tried hard enough. Maureen felt like rolling her eyes. Did she make him nervous? "O-kay... ummm... do you think I can leave this in his bedroom?" she asked, gesturing the bag in her arms. "Or maybe there's someone there?"
"Who would be there?"
"I dunno..." Think! Quick! She let out a nervous laughter. "Not him, cause he's not home, and not you obviously because you're with me... me... Mimi!" Stupid, what the hell are you doing! Now she was the one who was rambling. She felt like kicking herself.
His eyebrows knotted together. "No... Mimi's not here... and if she was here in a bedroom, it was most likely be mine... Hey wait, what's in the bag anyway?"
"I just found some of his stuff when we cleaned up Collins' new room. I thought he might want them back."
"How... nice of you," said Roger slowly. Maureen could feel his cold gaze drilling through her. "Sure, you can leave it in his bedroom if you'd like, or just anywhere around here."
"No, his bedroom is just fine!" she looked around her. "So... is everything okay around here? I haven't been here for a while, is it still... the two of you, or...?"
"Yeah it's just the two of us... well right now it's one half of us... umm well it's just me so it's just one of us."
"Yeah, but I mean, I'm sure Mimi spends her a lot of time and maybe some... other people.."
He looked distant for a moment, as if he was thinking about what she had said. "No one else has been here as far as I know. Oh! Muffy's mobsters came over to collect the rent... and then the mailman came too..."
Maureen frowned. Of course she didn't mean that. Was he really that stupid? Why couldn't he answer that simple question? Did Michelle spend her nights there, in Mark's bed? Wait a minute... what 'nights'? Are you insane? They've known each other since fucking yesterday! She shook herself mentally and concentrated the matter in hand. She had to get details out of Roger... well, somehow. "You don't happen to know when he's coming back, right, Roger?" she asked, somewhat impatient.
"Oh, he planned something for the rest of the afternoon..." he picked up his guitar. "And he has other plans for tonight..." he strummed some random chords before he bursted out singing. "He's gonna go O-UUUT tonight..." Maureen shot him an irritated glare. "Sorry..." he mumbled as he let go of the guitar. "Blame it on my girl, she's got me acting... well, my mind's been everywhere..."
Yeah, like I couldn't notice that. "So did he go to see his parents or...?"
"His parents? Oh, no, this is something special. He's going to... ummm... Heaven's Bistro, you know, that old restaurant."
Maureen's jaw nearly dropped. That was one of the most expensive places in the city. Could he even afford that! "Really? What's the ocassion?"
Roger had that silly wide grin on his face that Maureen knew she wasn't supposed to see, yet she did. And she knew exactly what it meant. She predicted his answer even before he said it.
"Well, he's gonna get laid... paid! I mean paid! From this family... Johansen family portrait."
She raised an eyebrow. "Oh? And who is this... family who's gonna... pay him?"
"Mr. and Mrs. Johansen, the parents of Danielle and, ummm... ummm... shit, I forgot, it started with an M... Mandy, Melissa, Mindy..."
"Mimi, Maureen, Mich-" The phone rang, making both of them jump off their seats. Maureen leaned back with a frustrated sigh. Damn it, I was so close to something!
Roger, on the other hand, looked very much relieved. "Oh, look! Phone! 'scuse me while we screen, Maureen..." Speak...
"Hey Roger," said Mark's voice from somewhere. It sounded like a noisy street. "Ummm, dunno if you're there, but I forgot my wallet, again... so can you please drop by the flower shop to drop it off, I can't pay for Miche-"
Roger literally launched himself towards the phone and snatched the reciever before Maureen even had a chance to blink. "MARK! Yeah, hey! I'll be RIGHT there!" he was already on his way out, slipping on his leather jacket and grabbing Mark's wallet, which was, she could tell now, on the coffee table. "Sorry, Maureen... I have to run an errand... just leave it in Mark's bedroom, lock the door behind you and hide the key in its usual place," he left hastily.
Maureen stared at the door for a second, then slowly got up and walked towards Mark's bedroom. She tried not to think about the endless times she's been there. You'll leave the shirt in the closet and go, he doesn't even have to know you were there, she told herself as she opened the door to his room.
Nothing had changed. Mark's bedroom was still a hopeless mess. Film reels, screenplays and clothes were scattered everywhere until you could hardly notice the room actually had a floor, and Maureen tried not to step on anything on her way to his closet. She took the shirt out of its paper bag and opened the closet.
She was nearly bonked over the head with a box that fell out of nowhere.
Luckily, the box missed her head by several inches, for Maureen moved aside by instinct, repressing a terrified shriek. The box fell noisily on the floor but didn't open. Damn it, what WAS that!
She quickly glanced at the door, which she left half open in case Roger would come back, and then knelt to pick up the box. It nearly got me killed, I HAVE to see what's in it, she decided as she put it on Mark's bed. She placed the neatly folded shirt next to it, and then carefully lifted the lid off the box.
Just some old-looking notes and letters, and photos. So many of them. Mark was a great photographer. When he wasn't playing with his old video camera he played with that one. He took pictures of everything, from birds on trees in Central Park to beautiful sunsets and rainbows. Maureen couldn't prevent the smile that slowly appeared on her face. He was so good at that.
And then she realized that the box didn't contain these photos. She took out some of them and stared at them for a moment in utter confusion. From a reason she still couldn't quite figure out, these photos were all of... her.
Her eyes filled with tears as she looked at the first one she held. It was of her, April and Roger, standing proudly near a sand castle of their creation. It was that weekend when they all went to the beach, and Collins couldn't join them because he couldn't get off from work. Right after he took that picture, she remembered, Mark put the camera back in its case and they started chasing each other like crazy, until finally they landed, in each other's arms, on the top of that castle...
Then there was a picture of her and April, in a middle of wild laughter, somewhere in the city near the infamous naked cowboy. He had nothing but a guitar, tightie whities, and a cowboy hat, that Roger stole afterwards. Roger looked pretty good in that hat, nearly as good as that cowboy itself. He got it back eventually, though he snatched it impatiently, and April even had the chance to pinch the handsome cowboy's ass... and three weeks later April was gone. It was their last picture together. Did she already know that they had AIDS when the picture was taken? How could she have such an honest smile if she did? Maureen stared at her frozen smile and tried to find it, the tiniest hint to what was about to happen, but couldn't. And April was no longer. So were her and Mark.
More photos... Some wonderful facial close ups of her, that Mark insisted on doing on the coldest day of the year in Central Park... and that photo that she took of him, looking dorkishly at her behind the camera's lense. It seemed to be the only picture of him in that box. It was an awfully unprofessional close up, yet Maureen was very proud of her work. She could read everything in his expression. It was a mixture of devotion and happiness and love ... Maureen snatched that picture without thinking and put it quickly in her bag. Hopefully, he wouldn't even notice.
She looked thoughtfully at the last one. It was marked May 14th. Her birthday. It was a great picture of the two of them that Collins took, after her small birthday show at the Life Cafe. She looked at her picture self. That Maureen looked so happy and careless, like nothing bothered her. She looked so much... in love.
Maureen dropped the photo and it silently fell back into the box. Her hands were shaking slightly as she placed the lid on top of the box. She put it back in the closet, on an upper shelf from which she thought it fell, then closed it, grabbed her bag, and left the room hastily.
She locked their door and left the key under a loosen tile on the floor, then raced down the stairs and into the street. Only then she released the breath she didn't even know she was holding.
It wasn't a long walk to her apartment, so she decided to save the subway fare that time. She needed some fresh air anyway. She needed to think.
Damn it, what had just happened there!
Why would Mark keep these photos? And in that separate box and not with the rest of his photography stuff? Why didn't he burn them or simply throw them away?
And most importantly, why was her heart racing over some silly old photos of the two of them?...
Soon she was back at her apartment. Luckily she didn't bump into Michelle in the hallway. She saw the note that Collins left for her the moment she walked into her bedroom- Reeney, I'm doing some reaserch in the library and then I'm off to the loft to see the guys. I'll bring some pizza for dinner so hold on. Later, Collins.
She kicked the Doc Martins off her feet and to the other end of the room. She took Mark's picture out of her bag and hid it inside her dresser, in a carved wooden music box. That was a present from him, too, she suddenly remembered, and slammed the dresser's drawer. She dropped herself on her bed with a sigh and closed her eyes in a desperate attempt to wipe Mark's image off her mind.
Oh, damn it, why is he everywhere? Was she so distracted by Joanne up until now that she couldn't notice it? Now that she was alone, there was nothing that would keep her distracted, nowhere she could hide, and it seemed like Mark's presence was haunting her.
I must stop thinking about it somehow, she decided and got up. Just... do something else. On her way to the living-room she caught a glimpse of her reflection in the mirror above the dresser. She stopped there to look at her for a moment.
"Who are you?" Her voice, though not higher than a whisper, echoed in the empty room. Maureen's only answer was the jingling sound of the wind chimes.