Later that night, Mimi was working, and Mark was out filming something or other. I was anxious for him to get back because I was curious about what had caused Maureen to come all the way over to the loft rather than simply calling. I figured that it was probably nothing important, given that it was, after all, Maureen, and she tended to get carried away and over-excited more often than not.
The entire time that I had been out with Mimi, I had been unable to keep my mind from wandering to Maureen, and I couldn't put my finger on why. I had never denied that she was a beautiful woman, or that I did desperately want to fuck her, but she was just that kind of person. You couldn't take your eyes off of her. This had never before transcended to my thoughts, however, and thus this revelation was odd. I wanted to talk to Mark about Maureen more so that I could see if this was how he felt about her than because I was actually concerned about his involvement with her, though I could probably hide that well.
The phone started to ring, blasting me out of my thoughts and confusion about my hormones and emotions. Maybe I'm just going crazy…obviously, I screened the call.
"Hey…um…Mark? Roger? I know someone's there. Listen…I'm downstairs and…god…it's really cold. Look…Joanne kicked me out and I really need somewhere to go…all right, fine. Don't pick up. I could always just pitch a te--"
"Hey Maureen…."
"Roger…please, can you just throw down the key?" She sounded like a lost child, and afraid that I wouldn't let her up—clearly she had been hoping that Mark would have picked up the phone. I told her I would and hung up, tossing the key down to her immediately.
A couple of minutes later, she emerged, dragging behind her a familiar, big, beat-up pink duffel bag. It was one of her many bags and boxes that we had been forced to move into the loft when she first moved in all those years ago, and then out again when she moved in with Joanne. It had been a group effort, much to my dismay.
When she noticed me looking her over, she flashed a winning smile, which would have been convincing had it not been for her puffy, bloodshot eyes. I pulled her into a gentle embrace, which seemed to surprise her, but she accepted it gratefully. When I separated from her, my clothes were wet, which was when I noticed that she was soaked, and it was raining outside. She was shivering, so I told her to go change into some dry clothes. She nodded and went towards the bathroom, and before she shut the door, I produced a clean, worn pink towel from a small closet, hers, which she had left behind when she moved. She smiled and began toweling off her face and arms as she swung the door closed.
I got some blankets and pillows, laying them out on the couch for Maureen. As I did that, I realized the blinking light on the answering machine. I played the message, which was from Mark.
"Hey Rog, it's me. Sorry…I forgot to leave a note, but Cindy came before and told me that my mom…uh…she's sick. I have to go see her…so…I uh…guess I'll be gone for a few days." Maureen emerged as the end of the message was playing, and we stared at each other, unsure of what to do or say, clearly uncomfortable that Mark would be gone.
"Um…I'll be out of your hair as soon as I can…" She was practically whispering.
"Hey, I'm sorry about what I said this morning. It was out of line." She nodded, and then gestured to the couch.
"What's all this?"
"I figured you needed somewhere to sleep." She nodded slowly.
"Thanks." She wobbled a little, clutching her stomach as beads of sweat suddenly collected on her forehead. I moved forward to steady her, and her body fell against mine, and I felt how hot her skin was. She was burning up. I laid her down on the couch, asking if she needed anything, forgetting about my concerns for my own health.
"Rog…I don't want you to get sick…"
"Shh…it's okay." Though I was scared, my HIV was the least advanced, and I knew she had nowhere else to go. I thought about maybe going to stay with Mimi for a while, but decided not to leave right away. Maureen really didn't look well, and I was afraid of what might happen if she were left on her own.
This has definitely been the weirdest day of my life. First I'm thinking about fucking Maureen, then fucking Mimi and thinking about Maureen, and now I'm taking care of sick Maureen? That's not normal. We went from firing shots at one another to her needing me to help her. We used to be really close, before she messed Mark up, but ever since then…
"Roger…I'm scared…" What did she have to be afraid of? Being alone? Being sick? She was otherwise healthy, and she would get over it…
"Shh…everything's gonna be alright…"
"No, Roger, you don't understand…" I had retrieved a damp cloth, and placed it on her forehead, feeling oddly paternal, which was not something I had ever felt before
"What?" And then, from her mouth, poured the two words that I least wanted to hear.
"I'm positive."