"Mardi Gras, 1996, 9am EST. From here on in, there is no Mark to shoot this film, as he died three weeks ago in a senseless act of violence, having stopped by the side of the road, being the Good Samaritan that he was. He was twenty-eight years old. Maureen Johnson has taken over filming in his absence. We got a call one morning, after he had gone to visit Scarsdale. He hadn't told us where he was going. He had borrowed Joanne's car, and they found her name on the registration. Mark was supposed to be the one left in the end with Joanne and I. The three of us were supposed to stay together, strong. Benny let Mark keep the apartment after the others had gone. We thought that we were in the clear…that nothing truly bad could happen to us for at least a couple of years. We thought wrong. This may be the last time this camera is used. Close on Joanne, who is going through the remains of our family, all of the things left untouched in the loft. The three of us had planned on going to New Orleans for Mardi Gras…but given the five deaths of those whom we had loved dearly, the last three Collins, Roger and Mark all within the past several months, neither Joanne nor myself felt much like celebrating. So we sit here in the loft of the deceased…on a dark, dreary, rainy day in this grungy city…" I shut the camera off as I felt my throat closing up, not wanting to allow my voice to crack or my tears to flow.
"Maureen, honey, come here." I walked solemnly over to where she sat, at the door to Mark's closet. She held out a rather large box labeled "Maureen", and my interest was peaked. I silently took it to a different corner of the room, away from Joanne, not knowing what the filmmaker had kept of me, not wanting her to see before I myself had had the chance to look things over. When I opened it, my breath caught in my throat. At the very top of the box was two sealed envelopes, with my name on them. No address, just "Maureen" scrawled simply in blue ink. I opened the first one, not knowing what to expect. I certainly didn't expect for a simple gold ring with a moderately sized, beautiful diamond to fall out onto my lap. As I gaped at the band, the last of my composure was decimated. I gently slid the ring onto the ring finger of my left hand, and the most horrifying sobs came from deep within my existence, and I couldn't keep my body still from shaking and rocking, trying to find some sort of solace, but coming up completely empty handed. There was nothing left but the pain. Joanne tried to comfort me, but I pushed her away, needing to be alone. As much as I longed to be held and soothed, I knew that there was nothing that could change the reality that I was living in, there was nothing that I could do. What I needed more than anything was Mark, and that wasn't an option. I pulled the letter out when my tears had somewhat subsided, desperate to read what he had written, feeling a deep pit of emptiness forming within me, a sharp stabbing pain in my heart, the ache in my lungs, in seemingly all of my existence. I unfolded the letter.
Maureen…I wish that I could have asked you this in person, but I can't even bring myself to get this on film. I love you more than I have ever loved anything or anyone before in my life, including my camera. I knew from the moment I laid eyes on you that I loved you…you were so outspoken, free-spirited and gorgeous. Not to mention intelligent, witty and all together the most amazing woman that I have ever met in my life. We have been together for about five years now, and this relationship just feels right. Now, I know full well that you aren't a saint, as you so frequently remind me, and I also know that I don't have the best way with words, but I do know what I feel. And what I feel is deep love for you and devotion to you. I am happy, truly happy when I am with you, and there is nothing that makes me happier than the sound of your voice and the touch of your skin. You make me feel alive. I've never felt that before. I think that you love me, too, because why else would you still be with me? Although I can't understand what you see in me in the first place…I don't deserve a woman as amazing as you are. Now, if you will have me, nothing would make me happier than if you would marry me. I mean, if you want to. If your answer is yes, I would be the happiest man in the world. If it is no, and I have completely made a fool of myself, I hope that we can just forget that this letter ever existed. Regardless of the outcome, I want you to keep the ring. It isn't much, but I hope that you like it.
I couldn't believe my eyes. That ring must have cost what to us would be considered a fortune, probably more than paying the rent that Benny had asked of him. The fact that he hadn't pawned or returned it seemed absolutely insane to me, the fact that he would have rather gone to work for Buzzline…it was depressing. I wished that I could have been better towards him. There was no date on the letter or anything, but I got the impression that it had been written a long while before I had finally broken up with him. I wondered whether or not her had ever actually gotten up enough nerve to hand me this letter. I could just imagine him, sitting there, smiling as he wrote the letter, then waiting there for me to come home. Inevitably, he would have fallen asleep waiting for me, and I would have come home completely and utterly drunk, only to pass out on the floor or the couch. He probably would have cried, pulled himself together, and somehow managed to get me back into his bed, feeling dejected. The end of our relationship had been really hard because I didn't know how else to deal with grief than to get drunk and flirt with someone to make myself feel worthwhile, someone who would boost my ego, which usually resulted in me having sex with them, or at least making out. I was too embarrassed to tell him that I was hurting after the loss of April. I was too proud to tell him that his attention to Roger was more than I could handle. I hadn't had the heart to tell him that I was jealous of the camera. Maybe I should have. Maybe things would have been different. Maybe he would still be here. But maybe isn't going to bring him back. Maybe can't make things okay. Maybe can't change the past. If I had known this would be the future, maybe I would have seen the error in our little credo. Or maybe there really is no day but today…maybe I should have just shown him that I loved him when I had the chance…