I received a four-year photography scholarship to Brown.

I was notified in November of my senior year and completely flipped out. Brown's Department of Modern Culture and Media had one of the best cinematography programs in the entire country. Brown was Ivy League. And I was in. I could hardly conceive the notion, but nonetheless, I didn't even bother applying to other colleges the first couple months of my senior year.

And Roger had indeed succeeded in finding a place to live- a large warehouse- turned- loft on Avenue B, near Greenwich.

He called from a payphone a few days after the acid incident, apologizing and explaining until his quarter ran out. I agreed to meet him in the rec. center alleyway to talk face to face.

The gist of it was basically he had taken the PCP to celebrate. And there was no other rationalization. Ha. Some celebration… Even though I was absolutely furious, and he had severed my trust, I tried not to sound too motherly when bitching him out. Just concerned and angry.

At first he apologized some more, and then he got mad and told me to shut up about it and leave him alone. The argument went in circles for a good hour or so, until we found something better to talk about. We overlooked the matter and got right back on the issue of life after high school. …In my case anyway.

Roger left for N.Y.C. sometime after Christmas. At the time of our talk, I didn't know I'd been accepted yet, but I just assumed I'd be off to college in the fall.

"…But Roger, I won't be anywhere near the city…"

"Yeah, I know, but when you're back for Christmas vacation or whatever you should just come visit."

"My parents are going to want me home for Christmas vacation Roger, not at your apartment."

"Just tell 'em, you're not coming home for Christmas one year. Tell 'em you're staying on campus to study or something…"

"I suppose I could…"

"Do."

"Yeah, okay."

"And maybe Mark…when- when college is all done, you can…produce films in…your very own loft studio, courtesy of Roger Davis and company…"

"Roger. Are you-…asking me to move in with you?"

"If your campus wasn't so fucking far away we could be roommates starting next fall."

"Oh my God. Really?"

"I don't see why not."

An apartment in the Village. A bohemian wet dream. Jack Kerouac's picturesque setting for the Beat Generation. My kind of people. Home to hundreds of artists from Burroughs to Ginsberg and back. What a perfect place for a filmmaker.

Needless to say, I agreed.

--

Roger and I saw each other very frequently throughout the remaining school year. My mom allowed him to come over when my dad wasn't home, because she maintained a certain understanding. And my sister adored him as well. She had a soft spot for him ever since she'd met him, and over Christmas break, somehow, she convinced our parents to let Roger and I stay at her place with Adam.

Joe, and Roger's drummer Andy were already moved into the Avenue B apartment- they had been since August. So we packed up what little belongings Roger had and brought them in a suitcase with us to Cindy's place.

My dad was aggressive about the ordeal because I'd be alone in the city, with Roger, for fourteen days. My mom was worried because I'd be alone, in the city, for fourteen days. But I sat her down and talked it out with her. The tipping point was the understanding that this was the last major time I'd get to see Roger, until really, after college. He'd sold his car and was prepared to move in with his band mates. He'd stay in New York, whereas I'd return home and finish high school. Then it was off to Rhode Island in August. There was no gray area.

She obliged, and talked to my dad. By December 21st, Roger and I were in the backseat of my sister's Chrysler, bickering clandestinely, Roger's suitcase occupying the space between our feet.

Once in the city, we were rarely in Cindy's apartment, except to sleep, and even then we snuck out. We explored the city together, taking it in, and as always, planning. We took the subway to Alphabet City, and Cindy and I helped him settle into his loft.

He was correct about it being huge. It encased a vacant lot on 11th Street, and Roger's two other band members spoke of constructing a stage there, for local performances. Joe's uncle, who also lived in the city, co-owned The Pyramid Club. Now that Roger was…"home"…they could finally start playing gigs.

On Christmas Eve we sat on the roof of Roger's apartment and looked out at the frozen city glowing below us. Roger didn't say much that night, but the only thing that really stuck was, "You were right Mark. It really happened."

Six days later I was home for New Year's.

--

The remainder of high school blew by without a trace. Cindy and I worked out a system where she would come to get me for things like Easter vacation and Fourth of July. Every time I was in the city, I would visit Roger for the majority of the days. He would totally isolate himself from his other band mates when I arrived, and we'd spend the time traversing the city and catching up.

And even for the brief amount I'd see him, he still remained the best friend I'd ever had, and vice versa.

--

The first day of college hit me like a brick.

My alarm sounded at 4:30 in the morning. I was all packed the evening before, and our car was loaded and ready for the four-hour drive, at the break of dawn.

My mother was also in hysterics…at the break of dawn. Before I could even hit the 'off' switch on the beeping clock, she was in my room, on my mattress, wrapping her arms tightly around me and sobbing her eyes out.

"Oh, my baby boy is leaving! Oh Mark honey I'm so proud of you! This is your big day! Oh honey. Are you excited?"

"I really couldn't tell you one way or another. I'm trying not to think too much about it."

"Oh, I suppose that's best. Oh honey. Well! I guess I'll let you get up and get ready! It's time." She burst into tears again. "It's time to let you go..."

I rolled my eyes, but my heart hurt a little. I hugged her back, for a long time, and ended up crying myself.

When I eventually pulled away I asked, "Didn't you go through this with Cindy?"

"Yes, but it's hard. It's so very hard. You're my baby boy. It's just gonna be me and your father now…"

I wiped my eyes and laughed. "So buy a dog!"

"Honey." She said seriously, perking up a bit. "There's another reason I came in here this morning, besides to cry sad tears at you."

"Really? What's that?"

"Well," She bit her lip and continued. "These are also tears of joy Mark..." She paused for suspense."...We're expecting grandchildren!"

I dropped down to my mattress. "Cindy!"

"Yes honey, your sister is pregnant!"

"Holy cow! Well! Well, what a morning..."