A/N: Thanks to all for the reviews on the last chapter! I didn't even expect that many so I was really happy. Sorry for the delay on getting this part out, I've been super sick this week (strep twice in two weeks plus a terrible cold on top of it) so I haven't been feeling so hot and all I've really been doing is taking it easy. Plus, I had a little trouble getting the motivation to actually get this chapter out, since it was a tiny bit of a filler. Anyway, thanks for being so patient and enjoy.
Mimi watched Roger from the living room couch, cradling the phone against her ear. He would pack a little bit, pace around their room, pack a little bit more and then pace again. He had been doing it for the past fifteen minutes that she had spent on the phone with Joanne, and even Mark, who had just gotten back from getting Chinese food for dinner, looked frustrated with it.
"Yeah, thank you so much Jo. We'll throw down the key when you get here. Uh huh. Bye." Mimi rested her head in her hands briefly before hanging up the phone and hopping off the kitchen chair she had been sitting on. Briskly, she made her way over to Roger's room.
She knocked lightly before poking her head in. "Rog? You almost done, baby?"
He grunted something in response, which was inaudible, due to the fact that his head was in the closet and the radio was on. Mimi walked forward and wrapped her arms around herself, leaning up against the dresser and resting her head against the wall. She glanced down at her fingernails and began picking at the chipped red nail polish. "Did you hear me?"
"Yeah, I heard you. And yeah, I'm done. I packed what I needed for the week. I called Julie back, to let her know to expect me sometime tonight. Wake is Monday night and the funeral is Tuesday."
Solemnly, Mimi stepped forward and rested her hands on his arms. "It's okay to feel, Roger. To feel sad, to be angry, to hate the world today. And I'll understand if you take all this out on me, because you're hurting. But I'm hurting too. I'm hurting for you."
Roger stared at the ground and swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat. "You don't get it. You never knew my mom, and I wish you could have met her. She was always the rock, and now's she's gone. It's hard to believe that someone you just talked to the other day is gone. I wish I could have done so many things differently. I wish I would have visited more, would have picked up her calls more, would have been a better son to her. And now I can't even apologize for all the shitty things I put her through. I didn't even get to say goodbye. The only one on my side now is Julie. You don't even know how hard it's going to be to go back and pretend everything's okay with my family. I'm gonna go up there and have to prove myself all over again to everyone."
"Maybe that's not such a bad thing." She shifted over and sat down on the bed. "You could show them that you're a better person now then you were back then. People change. Time heals all wounds, remember?"
"Yeah, right." He zipped the duffel bag shut and sat down next to her, pulling her into a hug. "I love you. I wish I could bring you up there with me today, but this is something I gotta deal with on my own. Did Joanne say if I could borrow her car?"
Mimi nodded. "Yeah. She'll be by in a few to drop it off."
"All right." He tossed the bag near the door and fell back against the bed, pulling Mimi down with him. "I'll come get you sometime Monday. You and Mark. I promise. We should all be somewhat civil towards each other by then."
"Okay," she nodded, linking her fingers around Roger's neck and pulling him into a kiss. "Maybe we should just take the train up instead. It doesn't make sense for you to drive all the way back down to get us. I'll take off from work Monday and Tuesday. It'll be fine."
"Are you sure?"
"Yeah," she insisted. "I'm twenty years old. You don't have to hold my hand all the time, remember?"
"Okay, smart ass," he smirked, rubbing his thumbs against her cheekbones. Content, he held her close, only to be interrupted by another knock at their bedroom door.
It was Mark. Grinning, he held out a container of Chinese food and gave them both the thumbs up sign. "Doyouwannahavesomedinner?" he mumbled together all in one chew before swallowing.
"In English?" Roger joked. "What did you order?"
"Lo-mein and egg rolls."
"My favorite!" Mimi perked up at this and hopped off of the bed. She made a grab at the container Mark was holding, but he held it above her head.
"No way. I haven't eaten since breakfast. There's two more on the kitchen table, get your own."
"Brat, weren't you ever taught to share?" she teased, heading out of the room, her curls bouncing against her blue tee-shirt.
Roger groaned before sitting up. "Mark, what the hell am I going to do?"
Mark lifted another forkful of lo-mein noodles into his mouth. "Don't take any shit."
"Great advice."
"No, I mean it though. You're not there to fight and bring up everything from the past. You're there for your mom and to preserve her memory." He sat down next to Roger. "Think of it this way. You never know until you try to make amends. It might be two steps forward and three steps back, but then again, it might not be so bad. They're your family. I'm sure, actually, I'm positive that they have some sort of love for you left. If not, they would have tried selling you to the gypsies when you were five years old."
Roger shook his head and managed a laugh. "That's cute, Mark. And if anything, Cindy would have tried harder to sell you off than any of my brothers or sisters combined."
"Yeah, well look at how Cindy and I are towards each other now. We're angels."
"Yeah, right."
By eight o'clock that evening, Roger was completely out of Manhattan and heading north on the Bronx River Parkway. He had to admit, it had taken a little practice to get used to driving again. It was hard to believe that it had been a year since he had driven to Santa Fe and back.
Driving didn't scare him in the least, but the fact that he was driving Joanne's brand new 1992 silver BMW was another matter. She had been lenient enough when she had swung by to drop the car off, allowing him to borrow it as long as he needed to, but was strict in letting him know that if anything was to happen to it, it was his head, and an angry Joanne was something not to cross paths with.
Still, his feelings of nervousness had dissipated by the time he got off the Parkway and onto the main roads of his old neighborhood. Scarsdale hadn't changed in the years since he had left. It was almost as if someone had freeze-framed the entire town, only to hit play as he drove through. Roger passed the park and the baseball diamonds; the fields where he had played soccer so many years ago in his youth. It was deja-vu all over again as he passed the high school and headed down the side streets that would lead him home. He could almost see himself and Mark walking home along the sidewalks; could almost feel all of the emotions that had been a part of growing up. And yet, as he turned down his own street, the memories faded and he was brought back to a sharp sense of reality. This wasn't home, not anymore.
He was so caught up in his emotions that he almost passed his old house entirely. He slammed on the brakes and with a sharp squeal, the car stopped and Roger shoved it into reverse, backing up and parking it in front of the mailbox. He glanced over at the house and squinted at the bay window, almost positive that he had just seen the curtains flutter underneath the porch lights.
Shit. He was tempted at that moment to turn around and head back to the city, but stopped himself. He couldn't hide anymore. He couldn't ignore his family or the fact that his mom had died. Whether he liked it or not, he needed to be there for them, and if that meant physically forcing himself to have a civilized conversation with his brother and gritting his teeth at every uncomfortable moment, he would do it.
He made sure to lock Joanne's car as he headed up the driveway, avoiding a collision with his mother's old rosebush in the dark. It was four steps and one stride to the front door, and in a breath, he was there. He lifted his hand up to ring the doorbell, but there was no need. The front door opened slowly, and he was greeted by his youngest sister, Julie.
She said nothing as she heldthe screen door open for him. For a moment, the two stared at each other, taking in each other's appearances for the first time in six years. Roger even attempted to speak, but no words came out.
To Roger, it seemed that Julie had gone from a skinny, awkward pre-teen with braces and frizzy hair to a beautiful young woman overnight. She was still short and just as tiny as Mimi, and had filled out somewhat, yet was still thin. Her dark brown hair was curled into loose waves that fell to just beneath her shoulders, and at the present moment, she was twirling a piece of it around her manicured fingernails.
"Hey," he tried again, and this time, the words came out clear and heartfelt.
He was taken aback as suddenly, she jumped forward and threw her arms around him in a tight hug, and was even more shocked when she started to cry.
Restlessly, he rubbed her back. "Hey, it's okay. Shh. I'm here now, everything's going to be okay."
Julie pulled back and glanced up at him, her brown eyes already swollen and red-rimmed from a full day's crying over her mother. "I can't believe you're really here."
"Yeah, it's me. I promise. No imposters or anything," he joked.
She lightly punched him in the arm before hugging him again. "I missed you so much. I'm so glad you're home."
Review, I know it's short, but it's the best I could do without getting in over my head. The next chapter will be better, and longer, I promise.