Chapter Nineteen

Mark busied himself all day, in hopes of getting his life back on track. Okay, he knew that wasn't happening any time soon, but he tried to forget as much as he could... forget as much about Collins and his stupid games, forget all about Maureen. He buried himself with film reels, old screenplays, obscure props, even searching through that box of clothing his sister had stacked away in the hallway closet. That actually made him feel a little better. The thing that made him laugh was old nighties and bras that she stashed away in there. She probably meant it as a joke, and she meant for him to find it. That was Cindy... at least the thought of her was able to block the rest of torturing ones.

And yet... gah, there was that little tiny monster in the back of his head, tormenting every reassuring thought that came into mind. There were no exits, no escape- he was going to live with this feeling forever, and it would be the death of him. Death. For some reason that seemed more and more tempting to ensue for each passing minute. Did he have anything else to look forward to? Well, he had Michelle, but things were turning out kind of ugly between them...

Mark had not talked with Michelle since yesterday. He was still a bit reluctant about seeing her again so soon. How could she possibly turn sides like that? He thought he knew her but obviously not well enough. Hopefully he would be able to overlook that part of her and maybe compromise with her. She was a reasonable girl. She just wanted the best for him, everyone did. Still, all his worries got him nowhere, and he drowned his sorrows by bringing out all his equipment, and sorting out the film he had. The last thing he could do was clean the versions of choppy films he had, although he so longed for his old camera.

Night fell immediately, and his stuff were scattered everywhere. A white projector stared blankly at him as he tried to figure out where everything belonged. He had done all he could, but now he couldn't figure out which scene, which reel, went with which. Roger had left a while ago with Mimi- something about going to the Life Café. Mark wasn't really paying attention, he was much too distracted with his work, but he told Roger that he would be fine.

He grabbed his sister's camera, and looked at it for a while. Hesitantly, he rewound the tape inside and watched last night's scene from the camera. Mark still couldn't figure out why she ran off stage so suddenly. It wasn't like her. Although the last thing he wanted to do was think about her, he couldn't help but try to piece the puzzle to the mystery 24 hours before. He hoped that she was all right at least. Roger didn't say much about it last night. In fact, oddly enough, he didn't say anything about it at all. Mark didn't tell him that he was there, and Roger didn't say five words about how the show went. It was weird... but then lately, there were times where he was very distant, and times where he was fine... He figured it had something to do with Mimi and Michelle. After that whole episode with Michelle accusing Mimi of not taking care of herself, Roger's viewpoint on Mark's "girlfriend" changed. He started to lower his eyes at him every time Mark would mention her. He figured much.

A rap came at the door. Mark grumbled softly, hating that he had to actually get up to get the door. Maybe if he stayed really quiet, they'd go away. But then... it could be Michelle... or Cindy... God, he hoped it was Cindy.

He opened the door, and Maureen stood on the other side. She looked different, a bit less flashy than usual. She had jeans on, a white tank top, and a brown leather jacket that made her look tiny, and so he guessed it was Collins'. Her hair was tied hastily, and she had no make-up. Instead, there were dark circles around her eyes, and she looked quite tired. It was strange seeing her there... like that...

"Maureen?" he questioned.

She had the tiniest smile. "Hi Mark," she said weakly.

A photoflash of yesterday's performance came in mind. "Uhh, can I help you, or something?"

"Can I come in?"

This took Mark by surprise. He didn't think that she would act so inviting after their last encounter. He thought she never wanted to see him again. A thought of her chasing him with a chair ran through his mind. What could she possibly want that could make his life worst? Did she do this on purpose?

"I guess," he said, letting her in. He felt confused and a bit uncomfortable, fearing of what would take place next. "Was there something you needed or...?"

"Yeah, I..." she hesitated as her voice stopped in mid-sentence. "Well... first I think I owe you an apology."

"An... apology? Are you okay?" Mark's jaw almost dropped. He couldn't believe Maureen Johnson would actually come to his apartment willingly to apologize. Willingly? Wait a minute... "Did... did Collins send you here?"

"Why is it that every time I come here you always assume that Collins sent me?" she asked, her tone desperate rather that angry. She sighed. "No, he didn't send me here, Mark, I came on my own decision."

"Oh... oh." He didn't know what to say. He was indecisive of whether he should accept her apology or not. It wasn't his fault at all that he was trying to help her out, and all he wanted was to try to at least tolerate her existence. Still, he was unsure. She had hurt him so much in the past, with their relationship. Perhaps she was apologizing for hurting him those times too. Was it good enough to be true? "Why?"

"If you just let me say it, I will."

"Then say it." He listened mindfully.

"About yesterday when you came over to fix my equipment. I was in a mood to fight, I took it on you, it was wrong... I'm sorry."

He waited for a minute. He frowned, disappointed. "Okay... is that all?"

She narrowed her eyes at him slowly. She then took out something out of her bag, and handed it to him. His camera. His camera? Great God Almighty! His camera!

"You... had it the whole time?" he asked, grabbing it possessively. She HAD it the whole time! Why would she keep his camera from him? Did she hate him that much? "Were you waiting for the opportune moment to give it to me, or what?"

She looked offended. "What? Do you really think I'd do that?"

You'd do anything to get what you want! He raised an eyebrow. "You threatened to throw a chair at me."

"I said I was sorry Mark," she said.

"Yeah I heard," he said hugging his camera a bit. "But I've heard it so many times." He sighed hopelessly, and headed for his equipment where he could set up his camera immediately. At least now he'll know what he taped last. "I have a lot of work Maureen... so if it's okay with you... you know where the door is."

"I just found your camera half an hour ago and RAN all the way here to bring it back because I know how much it means to you. Now if you don't believe me, that's your problem, but you can at least say thank you so I don't feel worse than I already do." Mark fiddled with his camera and the reel inside, and she went on. "Besides I'm not finished yet, Mark, there's something else I need to tell you."

Mark sighed. He should apologize. "Thank you oh great queen of Avenue A. Now can you finish up please?"

She turned away abruptly, as if she was hiding something from him. He waited, and as she slowly turned her head back he could see a glimmer around her eyes. He looked at her carefully, then continued working. She finally faced him and looked at him determinedly. "I realized something today... yesterday... I don't know, maybe even before but I kept denying it."

"Get to the point Maureen." He didn't mean to sound heartless, he was just tired of her empty excuses. Plus, he wasn't in the mood for long explanations. He kept hooking things up, walking around to get what he needed. She walked into the living room, finding a more comfortable spot. She found it and sat down.

"Yesterday," she started again. This is going to be a long night, thought Mark. "During my show... I had this, umm... some sort of a... revelation... I... oh man, I can't even say it right."

He knew she was rambling. He decided to change subjects so that he wouldn't have to hear her ramble on about her "revelation," which was of no interest to him. "Oh how was your show, by the way?" he asked casually. Okay, so he only chose this topic to mock her inside, but it felt nice finally getting at her without the blame.

"Disaster," she whispered. "I... I didn't do it." From the corner of his eyes he saw her bury her head in her hands, and lowered down to her knees. She was obviously still traumatized about the whole thing. Couldn't she ever get over herself?

"I'm... sorry to hear that," he said half truthfully, half just-wanting-her-to-go-away like. He became quiet. "Maureen... what's the real reason why you're here?"

"That's just it, I'm trying to get there!" she said discouragingly. Mark sighed. "What I'm trying to say, Mark, is that I... I still-"

"Look Maureen, I'm sorry to interrupt but every time we say that we're over, we somehow bump into each other again. Why can't we just leave each other alone?" He was becoming irritated, and he not only blamed her, but himself.

"Because maybe we just can't," she answered. "Maybe that's just our problem, maybe we can't lea-"

"Fuck!" A spark pinched his finger as he toyed with reel from his camera. "Did you do anything to this camera?"

"I didn't touch it!"

Something wasn't working, and Mark couldn't figure out what could be wrong with it. "Are you sure you didn't toss it around the room a few times, just to get back at me?"

"WHAT? I know how much it means to you, how can you even think that I'd make you miserable on purpose, messing with this camera? I don't know how that damn thing works!"

"You think you'd know a thing or two about cameras with you in front of it all the time." He shook his head furiously. "See, now you're distracting me. What the hell was I doing?" he thought for a minute to gather his knowledge, and tried to stay focused.

"Well, I'm sorry for distracting you but if you leave that damn camera alone and listen to what I have to say!"

She wasn't blaming him again, was she? "Well you're not saying anything, you keep stopping!" He didn't take notice that he had absent-mindedly clipped the reel into its projector.

She hesitated for a second, then, "Look, I can't do this anymore. I'm sick of dramas, I'm sick of pretending. So I'm here... to tell you... that I still..."

Suddenly a flitting noise came from the screen, and the projector flickered on. Mark turned his head to the screen, and his eyes widened. A shot of Maureen was seen. "What the...?" Onscreen Maureen walked toward the camera, her face invading the camera, but the audio was a bit fuzzy. "Are you SURE you didn't do anything with this camera?" he didn't recognize the shot so he figured she played around with it beforehand.

It looked as if she was about to cry, but Mark hardly noticed. "I told you I didn't-"

The screen suddenly viewed only the floor, two pairs of feet walking around, one pair he recognized to be his. Suddenly the audio cleared up and Maureen's familiar voice spoke through the screen, crying "I am SO DRUNK!" Mark looked at this, horrified.

"Oh my God... What is this?" he thought aloud.

"I don't know," she said softly.

He continued to stare at it, almost mesmerized. When was this? There was more dialogue... something about trying to find some aspirin, and how Maureen hated "this part." This part? What part? Mark tried to rattle his brain. He couldn't remember saying anything like that.

"Do you have any idea when this was?" he asked her softly.

"Could it be that..." she stopped.

He knew exactly what she meant. That night... that night where he found himself in his... the night that was like a missing scene in his life... "God I hope not." He suddenly heard himself onscreen say, Melt? You used to make me melt. That was his voice, but he hardly recognized it. Did he really say that? He wouldn't ever have admitted that to her, not after all they've been through. "I never said that... I..." No, it couldn't be...

"Oh God... so this is why they say people shouldn't get drunk."

Inside, Mark felt a sort of pity for her. Could she be that dense? Being drunk didn't exactly win you anything. "You mean you couldn't figure it out before?"

"I guess I never believed them... is it still on?"

There had been a bit of silence of the film. They must have been quite a distance between the camera and them because there was a brief buzzing, indicating that it must have still be on. Mark nodded. "Yeah, it's just that we moved... to another room." God, please let it not have been the bedroom. He shuddered at the thought.

"I can't believe I don't remember any of this," she said quietly.

"Me either," he said softly. And now he didn't know whether to blame her for that night. Was it both their fault? "Well... at least we'll finally know the truth." Did he want to know what actually happened? He wasn't quite positive about that. He was so confused.

"Do you feel better now, knowing it?"

"I'll feel better once I know the truth," he stated.

"Where did we go?" she asked.

God, I don't know! He just wanted to finish this film, and get it over it. Perhaps, when they knew the truth they can finally put the haunting past behind them, and begin a new life... Suddenly, a faint wail came that sounded like Haha! Got it open! Mark shook his head disappointedly.

"I hope that wasn't a beer bottle or something."

"I think it was aspirin," she answered. At least she recalled something.

"You remember? I wish I remembered."

"That's the only thing I do remember. Not much more." Suddenly a comment about her apartment being dirty was heard, and he couldn't believe that he was the one who said it. Before, he would have never dare to insult the great Maureen Johnson lifestyle, but now that he knew he said it, he couldn't help but laugh a little.

"Your apartment is pretty dirty," he said.

Maureen laughed a bit. "It's not anymore, since Collins moved in." He finally looked at her and she had moved closer to the screen, on the floor. Suddenly, Mark's heart stopped. Mark heard himself onscreen calling Maureen a dirty whore. He looked at the projector in shock. He didn't dare go back and look at her. Then... you gonna screw the neighbor's dog next? He cringed. Could he be that cruel about their relationship?

"So do you really think all that or was it the alcohol speaking?" she asked quietly. Mark still kept his eyes on the screen. He wasn't sure what to say. Did he really mean it? Under the circumstances he knew, he was out of his mind, but… was there actually some truth in it? As a safe gesture, he shook his head slowly.

"I'm sorry Maureen." That's all he could say.

They continued to watch silently. There was arguing, lots of it, and emotional outbursts. He heard himself say that he throve on her pain, and her blaming him on not getting over it after a whole year. The big question came… Mark had asked why she left him… A question he never dreamed he would ask if he was sober. He mostly assumed it was his fault. It made sense. He wasn't a prize to begin with. But Mark waited intently for the answer. She said she needed more, and that she thought Joanne would be able to give her more. It was hard listening to the reply; it was a needle through his heart. He then heard himself ask why she didn't tell him before, and that he would have made it better- that he would have done anything to make her happy. Mark pondered on those thoughts. He remembered that feeling.

"It was true, you know," he said absent-mindedly.

"What was?" she asked. She was suddenly sitting near him. He didn't realize when she had moved, he was drowned in his own thoughts.

"I… I really would have done anything… to make you happy." She took his hand with hers, and Mark felt that well-known feeling sneaking back in.

"I know you would," she said. She made a sudden face and pulled her hand away abruptly. She blushed and looked away. "Sorry."

He didn't say anything. He brought his hands to his lap and continued watching. Things calmed down a bit on the film, and then there was a mention of his shirt bringing out his eyes. Mark smiled. "Do you like my eyes?" he asked ingenuously.

"You know I do," she whispered.

"I almost stopped believing it," he said frankly. "I guess… I needed to hear it again." Then from the video they heard I've always loved your eyes, you know. Mark thought this was funny. "And again and again." He kept watching and tried to figure out what was going on scenery wise, but with hardly any luck. They could have been positioned anywhere. Then he heard himself apologize for something. Mark bit his lip. He hoped he didn't hurt her.

"Sorry for whatever I did," he said quickly.

"Why, what happened?"

He shrugged. "Maybe I kicked you in the stomach."

She didn't seem to have taken it as a joke. Instead she looked at him thoughtfully, and then asked, "Why would you do that?"

Mark sighed, and continued to listen. And then it felt as if someone punched him in the face. Maureen gasped. He heard the words that he never thought he'd ever say, to save all humility and embarrassment. He had said Maureen, I still love you. I still love you. He still loved her? Mark was horrified, shocked. He didn't want to confront her. Don't think about it, he said to himself. The phone rang suddenly. It seemed to always ring at the most fortunate moments. Perhaps someone was looking after him. An angel… Angel…

"SPEAK…." Their answering machine was screening. Roger's voice came on. "Mark, are you there? Are you screening? Oh, fuck it, look, if you get back home, take a cab and come to the hospital. I'm here with Collins, Mimi... she collapsed in Life, we're in the ER... just... be here as soon as you can, okay? Bye."

She collapsed in Life. Maureen, I still love you. Come to the hospital. Maureen, I still love you. Angel, I hear you. Maureen, I still…SHIT.