I am SO sorry for the delay in updating! With school ending, summer school starting, and a major break through in a 'real' story I just haven't had the time. Thank you for your patience. I can't guarantee an update really soon, however some reviews might change that…
Disclaimer: I don't own RENT rights.
To get into a teacher's frame of mind, I retried the lost cause of teaching Mark how to play the guitar. We sat facing each other on the bed, my guitar between us. Mark stared at the instrument like it was a meteorite crashed down from space. I never understood what was so complicated about plucking the right strings, it seemed like a natural thing to me, but Mark just couldn't get it.
"Relax, Mark. That's half your problem you're too stiff. Feel the strings, feel the notes."
Mark mumbled something about new found patience and tried again. He was getting closer, but it was still a far cry from music.
He was doing much better physically, but he wouldn't forget the fact that I'd taken care of him. None of us ever realized that the reason Mark was always there for the group was that he didn't want to be helped himself. He hated dependency, and was making it painfully obvious that he wanted to pay me back.
"I called Alexi today, I'm going back to work at the end of the week." He said waiting for my next instructions.
I sighed. "Are you sure you're ready? You've only been back on your feet two days. You still need your rest, and they make your work all those crazy hours…"
He laid his head back against the wall, toying with the buttons on his shirt. He wouldn't look me in the eye.
"Roger, I can't do this anymore. I'm fine. I don't want you to worry about me, it was my fault that I got sick and I appreciate everything you did for me but this is something I have to do."
If he wasn't very careful I was going to lose it. Fast.
"You don't owe me a damn thing."
He bit his lip, trying to figure out how to tell me I was wrong. I cut him off.
"What the hell are you talking about? I did it because I love you, and I care about you. If it wasn't for you, I would be long past dead by now if not from drugs but because I didn't care enough to take care of myself. If anything I was paying you back. Why can't you just accept that sometimes you need some help like the rest of us?"
"I'm sorry, I just can't…"
Mark quite literally leapt off the bed, put on his coat and left the loft, not even grabbing his camera. I'm pretty sure I saw tears in his crystalline eyes.
I know I should have run out after him, but I figured it would only make things worse. If he wasn't back by dark, I would go out after him.
I spent the next two hours running worst-case scenarios through my mind. I was more than a little edgy, and craving a hit, when the phone rang.
"Hello?" I said, a little too eagerly.
"It's me, Mark, I'm staying with Maureen and Joanne for the night. I'll call in the morning. Good luck tomorrow, if I don't see you before…"
"Mark, wait a sec."
He hung up before I could finish.
"Damn it." I swore under my breath.
Was it my fault I fucking cared about him? What should I have done, let him die? He only had AIDS because he tried to help me. Talk about guilt.
I took the hottest shower I could stand, and went to bed. I didn't notice how much I liked sleeping with Mark curled up beside me, until he wasn't there to do it.
I woke up more tired than when I'd gone to bed. My entire night had been filled with dreams, nightmares, of Mark. In every dream, he died, because I wasn't there to save him. My hair was practically dripping with sweat, and the pillows were drenched. I was going to have to shower yet again.
With a pot of coffee brewing, I dressed in my cleanest jeans and a green button down shirt. It was the shirt Mark said brought out my eyes the best. I checked my briefcase for all my supplies and headed for the address Jessica's mother had given me over the phone.
The apartments in the area where she lived where in a lot better shape than the loft. Maybe just a little smaller, but someone obviously took care of them. When I made my way up the blue carpeted stairs and was standing in front of the dark wooden door to the right apartment, I realized the only name I knew was Jessica's. I didn't even know her last name. I took a deep breath and knocked on the door.
The woman, who answered, matched the voice from the phone perfectly. At first glance, she was strikingly beautiful, but when you looked a little closer you could see lines of worry hardening her youthful face and her clothes were just a little worn.
"Hi, I'm Roger Davis. The piano teacher?"
Smooth, really smooth I thought to myself.
"Oh good, you're here. I'm Mrs. Oliver, Jessica's mother. She's waiting at the piano for you, just over here."
She gestured toward a lovingly decorated living room. There were photographs in a wide variety of sizes and frames hanging on most of the wall space, especially above the furniture. The piano was pushed to the side of the room, wedged in between the wall and the couch. It was a little worn, but it shone with obvious polishing.
Jessica was perched on the bench. She was devastatingly thin and pale, with none other than strikingly blue eyes and a fringe of strawberry blonde hair. She was the spitting image of Mark. Maybe my mind was exaggerating their connection, but it was almost painful.
"Hey Jessica, I'm Roger." I said, offering her my hand.
"Pleased to meet you. Thank you for coming to teach me how to play the piano."
She had the manners to shock a nun. She sure as hell didn't deserve to be so sick.
"Do you know anything about reading music?" I asked first.
"I know the scale." She said softly.
"That's a start. Can you say it for me?"
She nodded. "Do Re Mi Fa So La Ti Do"
"Very good. We play that same thing on the piano."
As I pushed each key, I said the name of the note. Jessica caught on quickly, and began to do it herself. We did several rounds of this before a small alarm clock went off.
"Sorry to interrupt, but Jessica needs to take some of her medication." Mrs. Oliver said, slipping into the room with a cup of pills and a glass of water.
I glanced at my own pager.
"What a coincidence. Me too." I said, taking out a dose.
"Are you sick too, Roger?" Jessica asked, cocking her head to look up at me.
Mrs. Oliver had already left the room.
"Yes, I have a disease that makes me get sick very easily."
"I'm sorry." She said innocently. I could see the questions in her eyes.
"How about we finish your lesson for today, and I'll tell you all about it some other time."
"Okay." She said easily, turning her attention back to the keys in front of her.
We worked on learning the notes, and getting familiar with the keys for the remaining half an hour. I could see she was getting tired, but when her mother came back in at three she didn't want to stop.
"Just ten more minutes, Mom?" she pleaded.
"Mr. Davis has to go, sweetheart. You have to rest anyway."
"Okay." She said yawning.
"Don't worry, I'll be back on Thursday. You just keep learning those notes, okay?"
She smiled obviously pleased she would have an excuse to practice.
"I sure will."
"Good. See you later."
Mrs. Oliver walked me back to the door.
"I haven't seen her so happy in months." She said, looking back at Jessica.
"Happy to help." I said softly.
We said our goodbyes, and I started to make my way back home. I stopped at the cemetery; Mimi deserved to know what was going on right about now.
It was around five o'clock when I walked back through the door. There was a message flashing on the machine. I put my briefcase on the desk, and pushed the play button.
"Hey Roger, it's me. You're obviously not home… or ignoring me. I just wanted to say good luck today; I'll be home after work around nine. Bye."
"Damn it Mark." I whispered after the message was done playing.
He said he was going back to work at the end of the week. Tuesday is not the end of the week. I shook my head; it was going to take a whole lot of compromise for us to work this out.