Thanks to everyone that sent me a review so far, I think I need them more than oxygen sometimes. Keep 'em coming if you want me to update faster. slightly depressing chapter/story line coming up. Just stick with me.
Disclaimer: I don't own any rights to RENT. I own the thoughts that come out of the chaos known as my mind. If I honestly have to remind you of this, you might have some issues.
After a few stubborn hours of deliberation, we dropped the subject. It wasn't doing anything beyond exerting energy Mark just didn't have yet. However, what he lacked in physical strength he made up for romantically. We fell asleep, wearing a lot less than when we'd originally entered the bedroom.
What seemed like hours later Mark was shaking me awake with a fiery yet sweet look in his eye he whispering
"I got you a present, look under the bed."
I, Roger Davis, have been surprised very few times in my life. This qualified as one of those times. How had Mark gotten me anything, without me noticing? It's not like I'd slept since I found out he was sick… I gave him a sideways glance before sinking to my knees next to the bed. Among the dust bunnies, my guitar case and other assorted junk I couldn't even begin to describe, was a leather briefcase.
I pulled the case up onto the bed, it wasn't very heavy and the contents rattled as I shifted it from its horizontal position.
"Open it!" Mark said excitedly. I could only imagine what he had been like at birthday parties as a kid.
So I opened the case, and my eyes widened in shock.
Inside was a not so shiny pitch pipe, a slightly stained and ripped book of beginner sheet music, a conductor's baton and a time worn metronome.
"Now you have no excuses. I had Maureen scouring the city trying to find this stuff cheap and from the stories I endured, it wasn't easy. You're all set to teach, all you have to do is find students."
"What did I ever do to deserve you?" I rasped, my throat suddenly tight.
All I had ever done was cause Mark trouble and pain, and he treated me like a king. It just wasn't fair, yet he stuck with me happily. I only had one choice, to give it a shot.
In my desperation to fix what I had caused, I let Mark design flyers for my "competitively priced" private vocal, piano or guitar lessons while I hit the streets looking for something I thought was more worth while. Club managers remembered me from my glory days and instantly agreed to call me if they heard anything. I knew it was just a formality and that I wasn't getting anywhere. I stopped at the cemetery to visit Mimi with a single rose before heading home.
"Hey, you've had three calls already." Mark called as I pulled off my boots in front of the door.
"Are you kidding me?"
Were people honestly that desperate to learn to play the guitar, or to sing? I taught myself all that by the time I was twelve, and that was just by listening to the radio!
"Anything serious?"
Mark scanned the pad of notes next to the phone.
"One lady's offering you a thousand a week to teach her how to sing something by Madonna before her anniversary."
I laughed.
"What about the others?"
"A group of kids remembered you from your club days… they want to start their own band."
I shook my head.
"I'm not getting anyone involved with that if I can help it."
"I figured as much. The last one was a mom, whose little girl is sick. Cancer or something I think. She wants to learn how to play the piano before she dies."
I almost dropped the glass of water I was holding.
"She leave a number?"
He looked at the list again.
"Yeah."
When Mark went to take a nap that afternoon, I called the third number on the list. A woman of about thirty answered on the second ring. She had an alluring voice with a slight air of being tense, a mind being stretched a little too thin.
"Hello?"
"Hi, this is Roger Davis. You, um, left a message for me about giving your daughter piano lessons?" I said, trying to sound professional and confident, blocking out all my other emotions. I needed to be focused.
"Oh yes, thank you for getting back to me so promptly. My daughter, Jessica, is six years old. She has Leukemia, and they don't think she's going to recover. I don't want to sound cheap but she wants to learn to play the piano and her treatments are very expensive; I was hoping you could give her lessons twice a week for $200." She said all this in a rush, as though she'd been through it many times before.
I knew we needed a lot more money than that, but what was I going to do, say no?
"When would you like me to start?"
We worked out a schedule; Tuesdays and Thursdays from 2-3 pm, two hundred dollars, cash every Thursday. The family had recently purchased a second hand piano, in an attempt to make Jessica's wish come true, and they'd been searching high and low for an affordable teacher for weeks. I felt like I was finally doing something good, something that took an edge off of all the bad things I'd done over the years.
When Mark woke up later that evening, he took one look at the smile on my face and knew something was up.
"You got the job? Which one?"
I busied myself in the kitchen preparing dinner.
"I'll tell you after we eat and you take your meds."
Mark's appetite was slowly growing, and it no longer took him three hours to eat a decent sized meal. His cheeks had a little more color, and his blue eyes weren't so listless. Mark was going to be okay, at least for now. My conscience let up ever so slightly, Mark was getting better and I was getting a job. I wasn't a total failure.
"So? What offer did you take?"
I cleared the plates from the table.
"Which one do you think? The sick little girl. It doesn't pay a lot, but you should have heard the lady, I couldn't say no."
Mark just smiled.
"Would you look at that? Roger Davis does have a heart hidden in there somewhere."
I started to protest, a little hurt; until I noticed the grin spreading across his face.
"I'm proud of you, Roger."
"I'm proud of me too."
Can i just tell you how much i loved writing that chapter? I can't wait to keep going, so let me know what you think/ any suggestions and i'll have the next bit up asap.