Disclaimer: I don't own Rent
Chapter Five
Mark put off calling his sister for the rest of the day. He waited until almost eight thirty. Her kids were little and went to bed early, and her husband worked night shifts; he had time to talk to her without distractions. He was seated on the couch, Roger asleep with his head resting in Mark's lap.
He slowly dialed the numbers and waited for his sister's soft voice to greet him.
"Hello?"
"Hey, Cindy, it's Mark."
"Hey, how are you?"
"Not good actually."
"What's the matter?" Concern had immediately flooded into her voice. "Are you and Roger okay?"
"We're getting along fine, if that's what you mean," he replied. "Money's tight, but we're fine."
"Then what's wrong?"
"I tested…" he trailed off, trying not to let his voice crack. "I tested positive."
"I'm sorry."
"I knew it was coming," he found his hand twirling through Roger's hair. "We were so careful, but…"
"Shit happens."
"Basically," he sighed. "Maureen and Joanne should be a big help, you know, if one of us gets sicker."
"Did you tell mom yet? She called me earlier wondering where you were. She said you didn't pick up when she called."
"I haven't even told them about Roger yet."
"What are you waiting for?"
"Hell to freeze over, I guess," he joked.
Cindy didn't find it too funny. "Mark, call her back and make the death trip to Scarsdale. She's your mother, she deserves to know."
"Dad's going to kill me. I'm already on his shit-list for dropping out of college and not having a girlfriend since Maureen." He sighed, "What am I going to say? 'Hi Mom, this is Roger, he's my boyfriend and he gave me AIDS. What's new with you?'"
"Mark…" she gave him the same tone Roger had given him.
"Only if you come too," Mark compromised. "I don't want to do this without someone else backing me up."
"Fine," she consented. "Be careful, Mark. Call me if you need anything."
Mark sighed. He hadn't heard that enough times today already. "I will. Thanks."
"Bye."
Mark clicked the phone off and placed it on the end table. It was before nine, still early enough to call his mom.
Roger stirred in his lap.
"Hey," Mark smiled at him. "How was your nap?"
Roger yawned. "Good. Did you call Cindy?"
He nodded. "She wants me to go visit my parents and tell them."
"I want to come." He sat up in Mark's lap, nuzzling into his neck.
"Why would you want to come to Scarsdale?"
"I want them to know who it is that loves their son," he answered. "The only impression they have is a hopeless junkie with pipe dreams of becoming famous. That's not me anymore, and I want them to know that. And I want to be there with you."
Mark smiled. "I'll call her now." He slowly dialed the familiar number to the house he grew up in, dreading his mother's annoying, high-pitched voice.
"Hello, Cohen residence!" a too-cheery voice greeted.
"Hi Mom," he murmured.
"Marky, dear, how are you? Are you eating? You sound thin."
Sound thin? That was a new one. "Yes Mom. I'm eating, I'm sleeping, and taking my medicine."
"Medicine?"
Shit, he thought. "Oh, uh, never mind. Listen," he tried to change the subject. "I was wondering if I could come up this weekend. For a visit."
"That would be lovely," his slip up evaded her mind at the mention of a visit.
"Roger's going to come too, Mom."
"Roger? Isn't he a junkie? I don't want a drug addict in my house."
"No, Mom, he's not a junkie," Mark sighed into the phone, his hand still playing in Roger's soft brownish hair. "You'll like him, I promise." At least he hoped she'd like him. "I'll see you Friday night, okay?"
"Okay, dear," Mrs. Cohen replied. "I'll prepare your room for you and your dad will get the cot set up for your friend."
"Thanks Mom. I'll see you then."
"I love you, honey."
"You too." He placed the phone on the table and wrapped his arms around Roger.
"Excited about Friday?" Roger asked.
"Thrilled," came the sarcastic reply. "Distract me, please?"
"Gladly," Roger nuzzled back into Mark and began nipping at his pale neck.
Mark moaned softly as he felt Roger's hand drift from his chest, down to his stomach, and even lower. He kissed up Mark's jaw line, eventually finding his mouth. Closing his eyes, Mark succumbed to Roger's touch as he kissed his worries away.
Nine o'clock on Friday night, Mark and Roger walked up Mark's old street. Roger regretted not stopping at the corner to kiss Mark one last time before they got to the Cohen household. Mark opened the door and dropped his bag on the ground.
"Mom?" Mark called.
A short, graying woman entered the room. "Marky, dear," she kissed his forehead and hugged him tightly.
Roger hadn't seen Mrs. Cohen in years. She had changed a lot. She was older, more gullible it seemed. He almost felt bad that this was the woman whose son he had infected. That it was her little boy he was fucking.
"Mom, you remember Roger," Mark pulled out, gesturing behind him.
Roger put on his sweet charm as he offered a greeting and gave Mrs. Cohen a hug. "It's so nice to see you again."
She just smiled and nodded. "Did you boys eat before you came? See, Mark, look at you. I knew you sounded thin."
Mark rolled his eyes. "I'm not hungry."
"How does one sound thin?" Roger inquired.
"Just listen to his voice, it sounds so malnourished," she explained. "It's usually strong and loud."
"Oh, believe me," Roger smiled, "when Mark wants something, his voice is plenty loud. Especially when he wants me to give it to him." He grinned wildly as Mark's face turned a bright crimson and he flashed an 'I can't believe you just implied that in front of my mother' look. "He's pretty vocal about what he wants."
"That's my boy," she smiled obliviously and ruffled his hair. "Mark, did you know Cindy was coming tomorrow?"
"Yeah, I talked to her the other day," he replied, "figured we could have a family get-together. Where's Dad?"
"Asleep."
"That sounds like the place to be," Roger yawned. "I think I'm going to go to bed. Thanks for welcoming me into your lovely home, Mrs. Cohen."
"Anytime, dear," she replied, a fake sweetness in her voice.
"I think I'll hit the hay too," Mark said. "Goodnight Mom."
"I'm not sleeping on that," Roger said, pointing to the small cot across from Mark's bed.
"I don't think it's very stable," he replied. He sat down on his old twin bed and scooted over to the edge. He smiled and patted the space beside him. "Lay with me."
Roger obeyed, peeling his shirt off and climbing under the covers in just boxers. He snuggled against the smaller blond, his head finding that perfect spot on his chest and his hand entwining with Mark's. Mark wrapped his other arm around Roger's back and kissed him softly on the forehead before drifting off to sleep.
"Boys, I made pancakes," Mrs. Cohen rapped softly on the closed door. "Wakey-wakey!"
Mark groaned, hearing the phrase his mother had used to wake him up for school when he was younger. Stirring a bit, he woke Roger, who also groaned.
"Boys…" Mrs. Cohen pushed the door open to get her son and his friend out of bed, "it's time for…" she trailed off as she caught sight of Roger half on top of her son, their legs visibly tangled from under the sheets. Her reaction was nothing more than a squeal of surprise and a thud as her body made contact with the ground.
"Shit," was all Mark could say as he watched his mother faint at the realization of why he insisted on Roger coming with him.
