A/N- the following chapter is dedicated to the late, great Jonathan Larson, whose 46th birthday was supposed to be today. Thank you for your One Song Glory. Life could have been so empty without those 8 guys you created. If you are watching all this from up there, I hope you are smiling and proud. You should be.
Chapter 10
Her head rested on his chest. He ran his fingers through her hair. He was thinking of absolutely nothing, which was not such a bad thing for a change. He had no idea what time it was, and looking at the digital clock on his bedside meant moving, which was something he didn't really want to do. He glanced at the window, and although the curtain hid most of it, it looked like twilight out there, but he really wasn't sure. It was so quiet he could almost hear her heart beats. He thought she fell asleep, and felt himself slowly drifting to sleep as well.
"Will you marry me?"
His eyes snapped open as she uttered those four words. His hand froze in place. His heart quickened its pace. "What?" Maybe he was dreaming about her saying this. Maybe it was only in his imagination.
She raised her head and turned to meet his gaze. She looked at him honestly, urgently. "Will you marry me?" she repeated, and he knew it was real.
"I… I don't…" he stammered, then stopped himself. She was proposing, and he was making a fool out of himself. Wait a second… She was proposing? "Are you serious?"
She nodded without breaking their gaze. There was a long pause. They were just looking at one another. He didn't need to consider it. He already knew his answer. He knew it for days, maybe even years. And now he was just staring at her speechless for being the first to ask it.
"You always have to be in the center of the attention, don't you?" he teased, laughing nervously, in a hopeless attempt to break his tension. He couldn't believe he wasn't the one proposing.
"Don't be so old fashioned, Mark," she said laughing.
"This is one thing people should be old fashioned about," he insisted.
She laughed softly, laying one hand on his chest. "Why are we even arguing about this?"
"I don't know." Yes, he'd marry her. Right there and then, if she wanted him to. He didn't even know what made her ask it now, when they still had no idea how to make this work, when they still didn't tell Libby anything, but he didn't care. He just wanted her. He looked deeply into her eyes. "Ask it again," he said quietly.
A slow, beautiful smile formed on her face as she crawled up a bit, until her face was just above his. "Mark Cohen, will you marry me?"
He smiled. "Yes. I will."
"Good answer…" she murmured, leaning down to kiss him.
"Why now?" he asked as they pulled away.
"Because it felt right," she replied, cuddling against him like a satisfied kitten. He knew better than doubt her instincts. But he had a feeling that it was not all.
"And…?"
She turned to look at him again. "And… what?"
"And what is it that you're not telling me?"
"Why do you think I'm not telling you something?" she asked innocently, but the sparkle in her eyes suggested otherwise. He gave her a look and she laughed. "I got a job offer. Basically it's the same thing I'm doing in San Francisco. They want me to replace the man who runs the department here." She paused for a moment, then gave him a beautiful smile. "I accepted it couple of hours ago, right before I came to your gallery. This is what I was doing at work so late."
It took no more than a minute for all this to sink in. Then it hit him, and he returned her smile. "This is so great. Congratulations," he said, tightening his arms around her. "What if I said I wouldn't marry you?" he asked jokingly.
"Then I would have done this," she said, putting on her best pout, and giving him her famous innocent-puppy-look. He laughed. "And if that wouldn't work…" she flashed him a seductive grin, "I'm sure I would have found some other way to make you change your mind," she said, running a finger down his chest.
He caught her hand halfway and laced his fingers with hers. "But wait. What about Libby?"
"We had a long talk. She wants to stay. It's her choice as well as mine."
He laughed. It was too easy. "I can't believe this."
"There's only one thing to do now, you know."
"Yeah? What's that?" he asked, moving her hair from her face.
"We can stop by our hotel to pick up Libby, and you can take your wife and daughter out for some pizza," she said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.
Your wife and daughter. Oh man. He smiled. "Why didn't you say so in the first place?"
Once everything was set and done, they decided he should go to Scarsdale to speak with his mother. That is, Maureen decided, and he hated to admit she was right. It was the last thing he wanted to do, but she insisted they couldn't get married without at least letting his mother know that. So after two days of denial, he finally called his mom, letting her know that he was coming to dinner. He packed a small bag and promised Maureen and Libby he'd be back in time to go to the airport with them.
He spent hours in his lawyer's office that morning. They discussed the procedures of adoption, and he got all the necessary forms. He didn't tell Maureen he was doing it. He wanted it to be a surprise. To him it made perfect sense. Marrying Maureen, he'd be Libby's father anyway, so why not making it official? He smiled on his way out of the building. He couldn't believe the good luck that suddenly decided to pay him a visit.
He went over to see how Tammy was getting along in the gallery before he made his way to the to rent a car, and out of town. The drive to Scarsdale was quicker this time, or so it seemed. He dreaded the thought of finally getting there. He would have done anything to get away with it, but he knew Maureen was right. He had to do this. Knowing his mother, he knew exactly what to expect, and he didn't like it. Maybe he would be able to convince her that everything would be okay. In his head, he knew what he would say to her. He would look at her in the eye and say, "Mom, I've got good news and bad news. The good news is that I'm finally getting married. The bad news? Well, remember that girl that once dumped me for another woman?…"
And then, before he knew it, he was there. He stayed in the car after parking it, just staring at nothing in particular. You go in there, you say what you have to say. No big deal, he told himself. He took a deep breath, and got out of the car.
"Hello! I'm here!" he said as he entered the kitchen from the back door. His mother was there, as he expected. She had just taken something out of the stove. It smelled great. His mom was such a great cook. He remembered missing this when he was living in the East Village, hungry, jobless and frozen.
"Mark! Finally!" she exclaimed as she approached him, giving him a huge, crushing hug. "Just in time for dinner. And Cindy called and heard you were coming, she said she might join us too!" Knowing that Cindy might get there made him feel somewhat relieved. He needed someone to support him while breaking the news to their mother. "Here, try one of these," she said, putting a tray of recently baked rolls under his nose. He took one, suddenly realizing he ate nothing that day. He watched his mother as she set the table.
"Do you need help with these?"
"Don't speak with your mouth full, honey."
Like he was five, he thought frowning. "Sorry."
"You don't call anymore," she commented, giving him that accusing look.
"I'm working, mom. You know how it is around the holiday season." Every year it was the same old choir. He stopped feeling guilty years ago. He was too distracted to feel guilty at the moment.
"I'd be dead and gone and you'll never know, because you never call."
He sighed. "Mom, come on… you know that's not true. Besides, when I do call every day, it annoys you."
"Of course it does! Because don't you think I can take a good care of myself? I'm not as old as you think!" she said, clearly offended.
He never said anything right. Or maybe it was because she was changing her mind in the speed of light, he wasn't sure. "Mom, I didn't mean to say you were old… Come on, sit down, I wanna talk to you before Cindy gets here," he took the plates from her hands. He was so nervous. His hands were actually shaking.
"Talk? About what?" she asked, sitting down. She eyed him curiously.
He put the plates on the table, sat on the chair next to hers and looked at her seriously. "I'm getting married-" he started, but soon, expected enough, was cut off.
"What? Mark… my precious baby boy… finally married? Mazel Tov!" There were tears of joy in her eyes. Then she figured something and her happy expression turned somewhat concerned. "Isn't it too soon? I thought you weren't seeing her for long. You didn't even meet her parents, I didn't meet her, you can't just-"
"Mom, mom, slow down!" he said, laughing at her enthusiastic reaction. Mostly because he knew it wouldn't last long. "I'll tell you everything, okay? Just let me talk and please wait until I finish. I promise I won't leave things unexplained." He looked at her for a moment. She looked at him intently, but said nothing, as if trying to do as she was asked. Good start, he encouraged himself. Now just say that. But then it was like he forgotten how to speak. Oh shit.
As if feeling his distress, she gave him an encouraging smile. "You can start by telling me her name."
That's it. Moment of truth. "Maureen Johnson."
At first, he thought she didn't hear him, for he got absolutely no comment. Then he raised his head to look at her, and she looked back at him in amazement. Her jaw nearly dropped to the floor. "You mean to tell me that you, my smart, sensible son, is going to marry this… this Shiksa from the suburbs?" she exploded. Well, not that he didn't expect that, but he thought he'd be able to say more before it'd happen. "I thought you understood your father and I were right all along about the likes of her! I thought you realized that when she dumped you! Do you really think ten years made any difference? A whore always stays one!"
He was completely shocked that such a nasty speech came from someone who had just told him not to speak with his mouth full, but he was too angry to delve into it. "The likes of her? What is that supposed to mean? You know nothing about her!" he felt his voice rising. He didn't want to yell. He wanted to have a civilized, quiet conversation. He wanted to make her change her mind about Maureen. Who was he kidding?
"I know enough," she said coldly. "Will you at least tell me how your paths came to cross again? I thought she was out of your life for good."
He tried to ignore that malicious tone of hers. "She moved to San Francisco but got to New York on business. I met her by accident, in my gallery. Mom, you must give her another chance. She is better, she has changed."
"Did she change her religion as well, by any chance?"
"Is that what it's all about? That she's not Jewish?"
"It's a part of it."
"Why is this so damn important? Roger wasn't Jewish, you know, and you never seemed to have a problem with that."
"You didn't marry Roger!" She sighed, and looked at him suspiciously. "I wonder what she had to do to make you take her back. Well, being the manipulative devil she was back then, I'm sure it was pretty easy for her now, and you just fell into her trap once again."
How could she be so cruel? "Look, nothing of what you'll say is going to make me change my mind. I'm going to marry her, I'm going to adopt her daughter, and-"
Her eyes grew big, and only then he realized his slip. Shit. "Her daughter?" she echoed, clearly horrified by revealing this fact. He slowly nodded. He didn't want to tell her about Libby, at least not until she'd change her mind about Maureen, but since there was no chance for it now, there was no point hiding this. By the look on her face, he knew that as far as she was concerned, it was her winning card. "You see, this only proves my point. Where is the child's father?" she had that tone, as if she knew the answer. He knew what she was thinking.
"It's a long story, and none of your business!" Yes, he was being rude, but he didn't care anymore. She was far more rude.
"If you think I'll let this whore and her bastard daughter into this house, into this family, you're wrong." Her voice was quiet, but her intention couldn't have been clearer.
"I was wrong coming here and trying to change your mind," he said coldly, standing up. He shouldn't have come.
"Your father must be turning in his grave, may he rest in peace. What a shame. How could you do such a thing? Is that the education you got from us? Or maybe you just spent too much time out of this house, in the company of people just like her?"
He didn't even bother answering. What was the point? He couldn't take it anymore. He had to get out of there. He opened the door and nearly bumped into Cindy, who was about to knock.
"Mark! You're early! It's good to see you, little brother!" she said giving him a hug. He didn't hug back. He was too angry for it. She must have felt that, for she slowly released her grip and gave him a questioning look. Then she seemed to notice their mother, who was still sitting at the table, half crying and murmuring things under her breath. "What's wrong? Aren't you staying for dinner?" she asked, looking at him with utter confusion.
"I think I lost my appetite," he said, moving past her and out of the house.
He just sat in the car, his head on the steering wheel. He didn't want to drive in this condition. He had to take a minute to pull himself together. He couldn't believe what had just happened. Well, actually he could, only he hoped she would at least try to listen. How could she talk like that? For a moment, it felt like he was the adult and she was the child. Couldn't she restrain herself? Couldn't she at least pretend she was happy for him?
Someone knocked on the window, startling him. His head snapped up and he saw Cindy, standing there with his backpack in her hands, looking concerned. He reached a hand to open the door and she slid into the seat next to him. She was fiddling with the zipper of his bag, avoiding eye contact. He didn't want to start this conversation. If his mother sent her to put some reason into his head, he didn't want to make it easier on her.
"Mom told me," she said hesitantly, finally looking at him.
"And you're here to convince me to drop it?" he cut her off dryly. He was sick and tired of his mother's schemes. "Because if you are, you're wasting your time. I don't wanna hear it."
Cindy sighed. "Mark… even if I was, you're a big boy. No matter what I'd say, eventually you'd make your own choices, your own mistakes."
"Marrying her is not a mistake!" he cut her off abruptly.
"I didn't say that it was." Cindy didn't seem intimidated by his outburst. Her tone remained calm. She didn't take their mother's side, he suddenly realized. She wasn't there because of that. She was there to hear his side.
"I wish she could just listen," he said, looking at her sadly. "She didn't even try to understand."
"You know mom. You know how she is when someone tries to hurt us. You'll understand this better when you'll have kids of your own, but it's a natural thing to do for a mom. And Maureen hurt you. Maybe you're too head over heels in love with her right now to remember, but you were a wreck because of her."
"Cindy, I'm not stupid. Of course I remember. But mom is being unfair, she's judging her according to the one time she had seen her, according to her religion, for God's sake. Back then she had a point, I guess, but not now. People change."
There was a pause, then Cindy asked quietly, "She said you were going to adopt her daughter?" he heard the confusion in her voice. He knew she was expecting an explanation, but he didn't feel like giving her one. Maybe some other time. So he simply nodded.
"I am. I wish you could see her, Cindy. She's the cutest little girl I've ever seen in my life. Oh wait," he said reaching for his wallet. He suddenly remembered the small photo he kept there. It was one of the pictures he took couple of days ago in the park; a close up of Libby, holding her teddy bear and smiling to the camera.
Cindy took the photo and observed it silently. "How old is she?"
"She'll be 5 in February," he said, taking the photo and putting it back in its place. "Look, Cindy, I don't expect you to support me or anything, just… don't judge them before you know them. Don't take mom's side."
"Mark, I've never intended to take mom's side. I know my little brother. If you think she's the one, who am I to argue?" she smiled, and her gaze wandered from him to her right hand. She looked at it thoughtfully before she took one of her rings off. "Here," she said, taking both his hands and placing the ring carefully between them.
He opened his hands to take a look at it. The spark of the Aquamarine in its center blinded him for a second. It was a beautiful ring. In fact, it looked kind of familiar. He looked from the ring to Cindy. "What's this?"
"It was grandma Ida's. I am the eldest, so I got it when Dan and I got married. Now I'm giving it to you, for Maureen."
He felt tears in the corners of his eyes and wanted to kick himself. You are not going to cry, you loser! Weird, for a moment it felt like Roger was there in the car with them, telling him that. The thought alone brought a smile to his lips.
"I've never met Maureen, but I hope you deserve each other. You've got my blessing."
He stared at her for the longest time, completely in loss of words. He slid the ring onto one of his fingers so he wouldn't lose it, and pulled his sister into a hug. "Thank you, Cindy."
"You're welcome," she smiled, slowly pulling away. "And Mazel Tov," she kissed his cheek, messed with his hair a bit and went out of the car.
After returning the car to the rental agency, he took the subway back uptown and made his way to Hilton. It was pretty late, but he didn't want to call and risk waking Libby, who was surely asleep by now. He just didn't feel like going home. Although his conversation with Cindy raised his spirits a little bit, his mother's last promise, or threat, echoed mercilessly in his head. If you think I'll let this whore and her bastard daughter into this house, into this family, you're wrong.
Maureen opened the door for him. She was wearing a white robe that had the logo of the hotel embroidered on its breast pocket in scarlet and gold. Her hair was wet, streaming down her shoulders. Luckily, it didn't seem like he woke her up. She smiled as she saw him on the doorway.
"Mark! What are you doing here?" she pulled him inside and closed the door. When she turned to look at him again, she had that naughty sparkle in her eyes. "If I knew you were coming here I wouldn't have packed my black lacy nightgown…" He was too distracted to get excited about her suggestive innuendo. He didn't even smile. She made one step towards him, suddenly concerned. "Hey… is everything okay?"
He didn't answer. He buried his head in her chest, and she instinctively wrapped her arms around his head, slowly massaging his scalp. He breathed in her scent. She smelled of soap and cleanliness. There was something so comforting about it. He just wanted to hold her.
"It didn't go so well, huh?" she asked gently, slowly moving away, making him face her.
"It was horrible, worse than I thought." He looked at her hesitantly. "Is it okay if I'll stay here tonight? I really don't feel like being home alone."
She didn't even hesitate. She nodded. "Sure. I was packing until half an hour ago, so Libby went to sleep in the smaller bedroom. Do you have your stuff though?"
He showed her his bag. "I was supposed to spend the night there, remember?"
"Was it that bad?" she asked, leading him down the hall. She closed the bedroom door shut behind them but didn't lock it.
"It was bad. I don't wanna talk about it." He'd die before he'd tell her everything his mother said about her.
"Okay," she nodded, and moved closer. Slowly, gently, she helped him out of his clothes. He just stood there, in the middle of the room, letting her do that. Suddenly, he felt so tired. "Did you eat? I guess we can call the room service if you want something."
He glanced at his watch and looked back at her, his eyebrow raised. "At 10PM?"
"We'll tell them I'm pregnant. They won't refuse a pregnant woman's craving for a late night dinner," she said winking, reaching for his bag. Finding his pajama pants, she threw them at his direction.
He hardly smiled as he caught them halfway and put them on. "No, that's okay. I bought something on my way back. Let's just go to sleep, okay?"
"Sure," she said, taking his arm, and led him to the bed. He let her take off his glasses and tuck him in as if he was a child, and watched her as she changed from the robe into a nightshirt. Then she crawled under the covers, snuggling closer to him. He wrapped his arms around her and closed his eyes. His thoughts drifted back to his grandmother's ring, which was now in his wallet. He'd give it to her tomorrow, he decided. Right before they'd leave.
They'd be okay, he thought, right before he fell asleep. They'd be happy together. With or without his mother's blessing. Cindy didn't have to worry. They did deserve each other.