Thanks for the reviews :D IShouldTellYou, I'm sorry the format is odd for you! It is in story format actually, and it appears fine on my computer anyway, I wonder if the format is wonky for anyone else?
1Chapter 2: We'll See
It took about fifteen minutes of wandering-which at least got her blood flowing as her
grandmother would have said-for her to see him, walking a bit stiffly, loaded down with a bucket
that seemed heavy.
"Collins!" She called out and ran to him. She felt that excitement that he brought with him, you
could never predict what he would do next. This was the man who ran naked through the
Parthenon after all.
He put down the bucket and swung her in his arms. She saw him wince a little.
"What happened to you?"
"Got jumped by some punks."
Oh my God...
" Hey, easy, easy. I'm fine. Never been better, in fact."
She didn't know quite what to say to that. He seemed different... happier?
He just chuckled at her confusion.
"Come on."
So she picked up the bucket for him. "This is heavy! What have you got in here anyway?"
He smiled. "No peeking yet! You'll see."
She rolled her eyes. He put an arm around her shoulders and together they walked back up to the
apartment. He took the bucket and she brought out her camera again to film his arrival.
Then he finally let her unpack what he'd brought. Wood for the stove. Groceries, at least enough
to feed them for the week.
"Thank you so much!" she exclaimed.
"Don't mention it."
Roger came out from his room. He looked preoccupied, greeted Collins half heartedly. So she
punched him lightly on the arm and Collins brought out a bottle.
"I prescribe some Stoli," he said. Marcella found some clean glasses, Collins poured out a drink
for each of them. Roger made an effort, lifted his glass "To our Santa Claus. Thanks Collins.
This is amazing."
Collins clinked his glass against Roger's and Marcella did the same.
They swallowed together and Marcella made a face. Strong stuff...
"MIT must pay well," Roger observed.
"Well not exactly," Collins admitted "Not to people whose theories make them nervous. But hey,
that doesn't matter. I can keep doing what I do right here - got a position at NYU starting after
the break. Hey, how about you, Roger? Hope you've at least been outside since we last talked"
"Nope. But I have a good excuse. I was waiting for you."
Collins studied Roger carefully. Things had started to go wrong just after Collins had left for
Boston. It was just after that when the manager of Roger's band had taken off with most of
their money, and that had been too much for the band to survive. And then there was the
wild, seductive, rebellious girl with the smile that Roger had noticed from the stage during one of
their last shows. But then Marcella knew she couldn't blame the breakup of the band, or April,
not really. No, Roger's problems had started long before that. When his dad had left...they'd
been 12, 13 maybe when he'd packed his stuff one night and took off. Roger had never talked
about it - he was a guy after all- but well, she'd known him for a long time even then, and when
you know someone for a long time you don't always need to talk. She knew very well how
deeply Roger's father had hurt him. His mother was a very gentle woman and she had tried so
hard, but nothing could heal when Roger's dad made promises that he never kept, again and
again (well, he had presented Roger with the Fender on his sixteenth birthday, and Roger had
preceded to annoy everyone with constant playing - Marcella wasn't sure even now how many
more times she'd have to hear Musetta's waltz. But she couldn't imagine any differently,
because it is an essential part of who Roger is). She knew without being told that he'd always
been reckless and restless. And she knew too, what the temptations were when
Roger starting getting successful. There were dangers, in that world he'd entered. But then, she
often thought that any explanation of how he'd started doing drugs was useless, because it
couldn't justify his choice.
Anyway, Collins hadn't been here for the worst of it, but he'd been an enormous help to them
both, just hearing his voice over the phone , having him to talk to, and his insights...they
wouldn't have made it without him. IT was because he'd been away awhile that he could better
tell how Roger was doing. So Marcella in her turn studied Collins, trying to gauge his reaction.
She relaxed when he gave her a wink. He was pleased with what he saw. Then he continued,
"Well from what I hear, there's quite a shindig planned tonight. Sounds like good timing."
"Except we have no money to go out."
"Oh, you don't need to worry about that. I think it's time I introduce our Christmas benefactor.
Allow me to propose a new member to our organization. The beautiful, the
generous, the talented, Angel Dumott Schunard." Finally it clicked, why Collins seemed so at
peace. The way his voice went all soft and mushy when he said the name.
The door slid open and well it would have been hard to miss the person who stood there. She-
He-was wearing an elf suit of red velvet, trimmed with white fur, the whole nine yards, zebra
striped stockings and black platform shoes. On anyone else, it would have looked really odd but
it didn't on Angel. He was naggingly familiar.. Oh yes of course... the drummer from the corner.
"Hi! You must be Marcella and this has to be Roger."
She handed them each a wad of hundred dollar bills.
"Got a windfall today and I thought, hell, it's Christmas, I can't keep it for myself, not today"
Neither could think of anything to say in return, could only sit stupidly, mouths open.
Funny, how much you can miss... All those times I hurried past our corner and he was there. I
never learned his name-such a fitting name, never saw this other side to him . And most of all, I
never got to know that the slim figure drumming away contained an exceptionally giving soul...
Angel laughed. "Well honey, it looks like my plan to make an entrance worked perfectly."
Collins chuckled. "Indeed it did."
Roger managed to find his voice first.
"You earned this on the street?"
"Oh but it was my lucky day today."
They listened spellbound how Angel had met a lady who had offered him a thousand dollars to
take care of a problem for her. Marcella bit her lip - it was horrible but she couldn't help being
amused at the idea of a hit being taken out on a little yappy dog. Angel went on to say that
everything had gone off without a hitch, he'd collected his fee and then had come across Collins.
That was a sobering thought...that otherwise their friend might still be lying on the pavement
somewhere because she and Roger hadn't seen what happened. She looked over at Roger he
was smiling at this part. Well, Angel had certainly proved to be a good nurse... and more, it
looked like. She couldn't help smiling back.
They both applauded when Angel had finished - it seemed only appropriate since he'd really
made the explanation into a performance. Since their gratitude had no words to express.
"Hey, Bum, get your ass away from my car!"
They could Benny yell from the street. Her stomach sank. She fingered her scarf nervously.
Kayleigh had given it to her four years ago, the first Chanukah after she'd moved into the loft.
Her niece had been just five years old then, but Cindy had said that the little girl was insistent on
picking out a gift herself. "Aunt Marcella doesn't have a scarf. She needs one, or she'll be cold.
I like the stripes. They're blue, that's Aunt Marcella's favourite."
Right about now, they probably would all be thinking of going to bed, the special dinner her
mother had worked so hard to prepare would be filling their stomachs, the menorah lit on the
table by the window. Really it would be easy, to go back, wouldn't it? After four years of
picking up and going wherever, whenever there was a job offered, of working long hours on her
footage and making ends meet as a sales assistant at an electronics store. Four years of fighting
constantly to keep afloat, of bearing burdens, fighting problems like Benny's...she could just
stop, pack it in, go home where they would be a welcome for her. Somehow, though, she knew,
it was an idle thought only. Because right here was her home too, for now, maybe for a long
time...as long as her heart told her it was right, as long as there were people needing a voice, just
like she and Roger had said earlier.
So when Benny joined them, she knew that she had just enough determination to step forward
and draw the line.
"Benny, that attitude towards the homeless is exactly what Maureen is protesting tonight"
He just smirked.
"Maureen is protesting losing her performance space. Not my attitude."
"Something has happened to you, Man. Not long ago you weren't so different from us,
but now..." Roger's voice was...not mad…more hurt.
"Hey, all I'm saying is that a landowner has a right to do what he likes with his own property."
"Happy Birthday Jesus" Collins said ironically.
Benny just frowned and turned to Marcella, held out his hand.
"The rent."
"You know we don't have it. You know what we agreed, what you promised us. I can't believe
you!
He held out his hands palms up.
"Listen, there is one way you won't have to pay."
"Of course there's a catch," Roger added bitterly.
"All you'd have to do is have a friendly chat with Maureen and convince her to cancel her
show."
Marcella rolled her eyes.
"You know you could get an injunction, or call the cops."
Benny nodded.
"Oh I have. The police are on standby. But my investors-"
"Your father-in-law."
"-Would prefer to handle this quietly."
"You can't quietly wipe out an entire tent city then watch "It's a Wonderful Life" on TV,"
Roger pointed out.
Benny, out of discomfort, smiled, endearing, self effacing. Marcella was reminded why Benny
was ideally suited for business, why he could accomplish just about anything he set himself to
do.
"Hey, guys, come on. I'm not a monster. I'm just looking at the big picture. Don't dismiss it.
I'm offering you both, in writing, what you have always wanted, what we always dreamed
about. A proper studio to work in. And, with the money from the condos we'll be building, a
decent income for once. You'll consider the opportunity. Or you'll have to pack."
He turned, and was gone.
Angel observe, "That boy could use some Prozac."
"No, something stronger.." Marcella couldn't help adding
"Therapy." Roger suggested tersely.
Collins put his arms around Angel's shoulders.
"That reminds me, we have got to get going."
Angel explained.
"We're going to a Life Support meeting. It's a group for anyone coping with HIV, not just those
who have it, ok Marcella? You'd be welcome."
"Ok, sure I'll be there. I have to stop by the lot first though - got a protest to save."
Roger scoffed. "I would like to know how she manages to lead everyone around by the nose."
"It's the principle, now," she protested. "I'm not doing this for Maureen's sake. Benny would
want nothing better than a technical problem to shut her show down."
"How about you Roger?" Angel asked, "Are you coming?"
"I'm...not really the best company these days."
Marcella rebuked him lightly, "Behave!"
"I'm sure he'll catch up later. Got a lot on his mind, is all. You'll see, we'll see."
As she followed Angel and Collins, who walking closely, arm in arm out the door, Marcella had
a strange feeling the drummer was right. Outside the cold air hit her lungs, and she inhaled of it
deeply, before she walked forward to find out what this evening would bring.