Anne
Mark kissed my shoulder gently. "Wake up, it's Christmas."
I glanced at the clock and groaned. 7:30. Doesn't he get that we're Jewish?
"I'm going to get a shower in before the festivities begin. Coffee's brewing if you want a cup." He kissed my cheek before shuffling off to the bathroom, carrying a couple of the blankets with him. The heat in the loft was acting up. Again.
Much to my own dismay, I wasn't able to fall back to sleep. I sat up to see a silver box on the bed beside me. I squealed and tore the paper from it, revealing a heavy black album. As I opened it, a handwritten note fell from the cover.
Anne,
Some of my best work has happened after we met.
You deserve to see what you've inspired.
Love, Mark
Sure, the note was cheesy. But most definitely sincere. As I flipped through the pages, pictures of the city and Mark and I smiled up at me. The last one, obviously taken recently, was of the two of us passed out on the couch together. "Aww, Mark."
I set the album back in its box and dragged myself to the kitchen; some caffeine was in order. The ancient 45 player had been taken out and was playing what sounded like carols from the forties and fifties.
"Morning, Anne. Merry Christmas." Roger said, pulling me into a hug.
"I would've never pegged you the holiday spirit type, Roger. Merry Christmas to you too." I hugged him back and settled on the couch. "You might want to turn that down though, if Mimi's asleep."
Roger shook his head. "Nah, she's at church with her mom and then picking up orange juice for mimosas."
"You're starting to look like a regular June Cleaver!" I laughed, gently shoving his shoulder.
"And don't you look well-fucked." He said, with a grin.
I rolled my eyes. "Here I was thinking we were actually having a civil conversation that didn't involve my and Mark's sex life. Way to ruin it, Roger."
"Look, I know we talked about this briefly before…" His demeanor turned from playful to serious before he continued. "But Mark's had his fair share of heartbreak these past few years. He really loves you." Roger put his hand on my knee. "And I trust you because I see how much you care for him. Just don't do anything stupid."
"This is out of the blue, Roger. What brought on the sudden big-brother act?" I asked, taken aback by Roger's confession.
"The longer your… relationship goes, the more attached I see him get." Roger shakes his head. "You didn't see him after Maureen. He was an absolute wreck, just shuffling around like a zombie. Locked himself in his room for a couple days."
"In all seriousness, Roger. Why now?" I groaned, standing up roughly.
"I figured that if you were going to break things off…" He began.
"Stop figuring." I spat, grabbing a box from beneath the tree and tossing it at him. "Merry fucking Christmas."
Slamming the bedroom door behind me, I pounded furiously at a pillow, wishing it was Roger's head that was receiving the beating instead.
"Anne, I know what's going on." Roger said, leaning up against the door. "Let's just talk about this like adults."
I opened the door a crack. "I don't know what you're talking about."
Roger pushed past me with ease, closing the door quietly. "Look, I know people. People talk." He sat down on the foot of the bed and gestured for me to do the same. "How long has… this been going on?"
I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, waiting for the jolt. I was dreaming and I was sure of it. Your boyfriend's roommate/best friend doesn't just have a nice little intervention with you over mimosas on Christmas Day. Things like that just don't happen.
"I was doing it before I met Mark. Just here and there though…" I swallowed the growing lump in my throat.
"Does he know?"
Roger's question was met with silence.
"Well? Does he!" He repeated, this time his voice more harsh.
I shook my head, avoiding his eyes. "N-no, he doesn't."
Roger ran his fingers through his hair. "Jesus, Anne. Jesus H. Christ. Do you know what this is going to do to him when he finds out?"
"You're not going to say anything, Roger. Either I'll tell him myself or he'll figure it out." I said firmly.
"I take it that means you expect me to keep this from him? He's my best friend, my oldest friend. We don't keep secrets here." Roger replied.
"It's not your place to tell him!" I hissed through clenched teeth.
"What's with the hushed voices?" Mark asked, pushing the door open. "Did Roger wake you?"
"Yeah, I was getting lonely in the kitchen." Roger answered for me.
"But I was going to get up anyway." I said, enveloping Mark in my arms. "Good morning, you."
He returned the hug and, in turn, stuck his icy hands up the back of my shirt.
I shrieked and pushed angrily at his chest, but he remained latched to me.
"Have you been eating?" He asked, brows knitting in concern.
"You sound like your mother." I tried to laugh him off but he still stayed serious.
"No, seriously. I can feel your vertebrae." He said, running his cold hands up and down my spine. "Have you always been this skinny?"
I froze. "Yes… well not, uh, not… quite."
"Are you alright?" Mark took my head in his hands and gave me a gentle, sweet kiss. "Just stressed about the holidays and such?"
"Yeah, that's it." I nodded. "I just have a hard time juggling work and spending time with you and all the Christmas parties that have come down the pike this month."
"If you need a day off, just tell me. I understand completely." He kissed me again.
Shit. Why does he have to say the things I want to hear the least?
Roger cleared his throat from behind us. "I think I just heard Mimi come in. So I'll go see if she needs any help."
"He can be so inconsiderate sometimes. But I think he means well." Mark shrugged as the door closed.
I sighed and leaned in on Mark's chest. "It's alright. The album is beautiful, Mark. Thank you."
"I'm glad you like it." He kissed me. "But aren't I supposed to get one in return?"
"I almost forgot! I'm sorry!" I exclaimed, rummaging through my suitcase. I extracted the bag carefully. "Here you go."
"Is this a sweater?" He asked, pulling it from the tissue paper.
"Mark! It's cashmere, which is lightweight but really soft." I crossed my arms.
"That's feminine, Anne."
"It'll bring out the color in your eyes." I protested.
"It is soft!" Mark rubbed it against his cheek. "Do they make cashmere pillows?"
"I'll look into it for your birthday." I said, adjusting his glasses.
"Are you sure you're okay?" He asked, running his hands up and down my arms. "You cold?"
I nodded. "I swear. After I shower can I borrow a sweatshirt? My blouse really isn't going to cut it with no heat."
"I'll get you a steak too. Some meat on those bones might keep you warmer." He opened the door and headed towards the kitchen, where Roger and Mimi were standing, whispering.
"You're one to talk." I poked at his side. "You've been wearing the same clothes since college."
"High school." Roger interjected.
"If you hate my stuff so much why don't you buy me new clothing for, say Christmas?" Mark laughed, pouring himself a cup of coffee.
"He has a point." Mimi said, taking champagne out of a brown bag. "Mimosas, anyone?"
"I triple dog dare you!" The TV resounded through the loft. What holiday would be complete without Christmas Story re-runs?
"I'm going to head home." I got up and stretched. "Merry Christmas everyone."
Mark followed me to the door and handed me my coat. "It's late- you can bring everything home tomorrow."
"Will you stay over tonight?" I asked.
"I don't know…" He cast a glance over at Roger and Mimi, who were cuddled up together on the couch.
"Roger and Mimi are big kids, they can handle themselves. Besides, all of us could use some time alone." I reasoned, wrapping my arms around his neck. "Please?"
He nodded and reached for his coat.
We walked in silence for a while, the streets eerily quiet.
"Are you sure you're okay?" Mark squeezed my hand in his. "Because if something's not working for you, we'll try to fix it."
"Mark, do relationships make you paranoid?" I asked quietly.
He didn't answer, but I could tell by the look of his furrowed brow that he was concentrating on his thoughts. Mark still hadn't answered by the time we got back to my apartment.
"I'm, um, going to change." I stuttered as he sat down on the couch and rested his head in his hands.
I stripped off his sweater and my shirt, tossing them into my laundry basket.
"Anne?" Mark knocked on the door.
"Come in." I called without thinking.
He walked in slowly, hands stuffed in his pockets. I sat on the foot of my bed waited for him to initiate conversation.
"I don't want to lose people that I care about because I didn't take the time to fix mistakes. That's why I'm always making sure you're okay. I don't want you to leave because you think I don't care or that I'm ignoring you. Whether or not that makes me paranoid of relationships, I don't know." He knelt down in front of me and rested his hands on my knees.
I stroked his cheek. "You don't need to worry about me."
"I meddle because I love." Mark said, cracking a smile.
"Come on, let's watch some crappy TV and go to bed." I pulled the covers down and crawled beneath them, Mark joining me.
Psst... word on the street is that Roger knows. But YOU DON'T. Patience is a virtue children. Hold your horses for a couple more beat around the bush chapters and I promise you'll get some genuine drama. LIVE and UNCUT.
Harper's Pixie: The movie soundtrack... le sigh I'm very, very disappointed. Anthony sound great though. I love love love that man. And can I say that I love you a lot for being a forever faithful, true-blue reviewer?
Koishii-Kitsune-Akia: I'm glad you like the story )
L.M. Ward: Collins and Joanne are fierce. I honestly believe that nobody likes Maureen that much, but they keep her around because she's a silly drunk. Love to my other true-blue reviewer.
IDontOwnEmotion: It's alright ) Mrs. Cohen's in the next chapter, as screwed up in the head as usual.
eLpHaBaFaBaLaElPhIeFaE: Anne's a Mary Sue, you can say it. But I'm glad you liked the story. Keep reading if you're interested!
-Ella