No Day But Today
DISCLAIMER: I do not own RENT or anything affiliated with it.
A/n: I'm really sorry about the language in this chapter. It's pretty foul in a few places, but you have to realize that Mark's pissed off at the world here… you'll understand that later. And I have to give a shout-out to Lanhar for giving me some much needed inspiration… it may not make it into this chapter, but it'll come soon.
Jeff knocked on the door to the loft for the second time in a month. He hated doing this to Mark, but it was his father.
"What are you doing here?" Roger asked, sliding the door open.
"I'm here to take Mark to Scarsdale for the funeral," Jeff replied.
"Good luck with that one," Roger said, moving over to let him into the loft. "If you can get him to go, I'd give you the million dollars I don't have." Mark walked out of his room.
"Mark, get dressed. We have to go to the funeral," Jeff said.
"Over my dead body," Mark muttered, going into the kitchen and pouring himself a bowl of Cap'n Crunch.
"Stop being an ass… your sister needs you," Jeff told him. He just laughed cynically.
"Stop being an ass? Cindy needs me? Cindy needs me as much as I need AIDS… did she ever tell you the story of the time she walked in while our dad was beating the shit out of me? Did she tell you the part where she just walked into her fucking room and let him keep on? How she never told anyone what the hell was happening in our house?" Mark asked. He put the box of cereal down.
"Stop lying," Jeff said. Mark just looked at him and shook his head in disgust.
"What? You want to see the scars from the time he beat me so fucking hard a doctor had to pin my fucking arm back together?" Mark asked, pulling up his sleeve.
"This isn't funny, Mark," Jeff replied. Roger was still watching the scene, trying to comprehend the words coming from Mark's mouth. "He was a good man."
"He was a bastard! A lying, cheating, abusive bastard!" Mark screamed.
"Jeff, just go," Roger said, pushing the man out of the loft. He turned around to face Mark as he closed the door. "Mark…"
"I don't want to talk about it." Mark found a spoon and began silently eating his cereal.
"Does anyone know where Mark is?" Paul asked, surveying the group.
"Locked in his room at t he loft," Mimi replied. She looked down at the floor. "He just lost his dad, too."
"Something's bothering you?" Paul asked. Mimi sighed.
"He quit telling us anything. He hasn't said a word since his brother-in-law showed up to take him to the funeral. Roger was there, but he won't talk about what happened, either. Mark's shutting everyone out, and Roger refuses to break his confidence, so of course no one else knows what the hell is going on with him."
"Do you always talk about me when I'm not around?" Mark asked. Mimi turned around to watch as he and Roger walked into the room.
"Welcome back, guys," Paul said. "Make yourselves comfortable." Roger sat down in his usual seat next to Mimi, forcing Mark into what had once been Angel's spot. "Do you want to talk about what's bothering you, Mark?"
"You all don't need to listen to my problems," Mark replied.
"That's what we're here for," Sue said. "You always listen to us."
"It's not really important," Mark said.
"Not really important?" Roger smirked. "Understatement of the century."
"Shut up," Mark replied.
"No. I'm not going to let you wallow in your own self pity like the hypocrite you're trying to be," Roger said. "If you aren't going to say it, then I sure the hell will."
"Go ahead, because I really just don't give a shit anymore. I mean, what the hell does it matter, the bastard's dead anyway, right?"
"I assume you mean your father," Paul said.
"Yeah," Mark said. "He was an abusive son of a bitch." Mimi reached across Roger and took Mark's hand. He turned to her and smiled, the first genuine smile anyone had seen in the weeks since his mother's death.