Chapter Eight-Nothing Important Happened Today

I'm sorry it took so long, Word Document refused to let me on. It just kept freezing up. I was scared I had lost everything for a second. It was driving me crazy not being able to write for a week and a half.

Mark

I know we all grow up knowing our parents will probably die before us, but I never thought it would happen this soon. You see my mother died last night. God, no matter how hard I try this doesn't seem real. I mean just two months ago she was fine. But then she took a turn for the worse. And I felt horrible because I couldn't be there for her. I wanted to, but there was never enough time or money. I guess it's too late now. I never even got to say goodbye.

"Mark, we're here," Roger says as the bus comes to a stop. I don't know if I can do this. I don't know if I'm strong enough.

"Cindy said she'd meet us here, right?"

"That's what her message said; I didn't get a chance to talk to her. Are you going to be okay?" he asks as the passengers begin to file off the bus. I lay my head on his shoulder and sigh,

"I don't think so."

"I'm sorry about all of this," he says as he puts his arm around me, "I wish I could make it all better."

"I'm just glad you're here. I don't know if I could handle my family alone."

"Come on, we better go," Roger remarks as I realize we're the only ones left on the bus. I slowly make my way off and collect my old, beaten-up duffle bag. Roger grabs his bag as well, but then proceeds to take my bag out of my hands. I look at him questionably, but he just smiles and begins to walk to the front of the station. We sit down on a bench outside and wait for my sister to come. I'm about to give up hope after 20 minutes, until I see a blue mini-van heading towards us. Here we go.

"Oh Mark, I've missed you so much," Cindy says tearfully as she holds me tight. Considering I haven't spoken to her in almost three years, I seriously doubt it. I hug her back anyway, and she finally pulls away. When she notices Roger behind me she frowns and looks at me questionably.

"I didn't know you were bringing a friend."

"Cindy, this is Roger. Roger…this is my sister Cindy." Roger sets the bags down and goes to shake her hand.

"I'm very sorry for your loss. Your mother was a very nice woman."

"Thanks," she replies as she shakes his hand quickly. Then she adds, "So you're the infamous Roger Davis."

"Infamous?" He asks as he takes his hand back.

"Well, you are the reason Mark hasn't come home in a while. He was always taking care of his roommate."

"Cindy, maybe we should get going. It's starting to get dark." She sighs and I see her start to retreat. It's times like these that make me never want to come back. Roger picks up the bags and sends me a grateful look for getting her off his back.

"I don't think she likes me," Roger whispers in my ear as he makes his way over to where I'm standing.

"She doesn't like anyone," I reply before he places our stuff in the trunk. We all get in the van, and are barely halfway down the road, when Cindy turns to me.

"I only have one spare room, so you'll have to share. I can make a bed on the floor for Roger."

"Thank you," Roger says nicely. I wonder what she'd do if I told her the truth about Roger and I? I wonder if she'd accept it?

"Helen and George will be so happy to see you again Mark. They've missed you." Cindy says right before we pull into her driveway. I sincerely doubt that. Last time I saw my niece and nephew, they treated me like I was nothing. I guess they take after my father.

Cindy honks her horn as we come to a stop and her husband and kids come out to greet us. Although I don't think greet is the right word since Helen is practically glaring at me.

"George, why don't you help Uncle Mark's friend with their bags?" Cindy asks as the 13-year-old. He sulks over to Roger, grabs my bag, and makes his way back into the house without saying a word. After a few introductions, Roger grabs his own bag and we make our way inside. As we walk in the door I can see bouquets of flowers all over the living room. That's when I'm reminded of the reason we're all here, the funeral.

"Dad should be by tonight for dinner, so make sure you're not late." Cindy says as she shows us to the room.

"Cindy, I don't think I should be around him right now. You know we don't get along."

"The man just lost his wife, you think you could muster up a little sympathy."

"Ex-wife," I correct right away. Then I take a deep breath and start again, "I lost her too, I lost my mother and I lost the only woman who's ever loved me just the way I am. So I deserve some sympathy as well. Listen, I don't want to see him. Not now."

"It's always about you isn't it? Can't you see he's changed? He's not the man he used to be. He's better now."

"I'm sorry, Cindy. I just can't," I reply as I turn around and head towards the room.

"You can't do anything, can you?" she says hatefully as she walks away, leaving Roger and me alone.

"Are you okay?" he asks as we step into the room and close the door behind us.

"This was a bad idea. We should've just gotten a hotel room or something."

"You know we couldn't afford that. If we had any money to spare, we'd be out of here in a heartbeat," he replies as he puts his arms around me.

"Everything is just happening at once, I don't know what to do anymore. "

"You have to go on living. So at least one of us is living."

"You're living too."

"Only if I'm with you," he says simply, and after weeks of exhaustion I finally break down and cry. I cry for my mother, for my friends. I cry for Roger, and I cry for myself. I cry until I have nothing left and then I lie down on the bed and listen to Roger try and comfort me. I eventually fall asleep, and am woken up several hours later by Roger gently shaking me.

"What's wrong?" I ask as I finally come to.

"Your sister said your father is on his way over, so I thought you'd want to go before he got here."

"Yeah, thanks for waking me up."

"No problem. Hey, maybe you can show me some of your old hangouts. I can finally find out something about the mysterious Mark Cohen."

"I'm not mysterious."

"Then prove it, let's go." I reluctantly get out of bed, slip my glasses on, and get ready to go.

"So, where to first?" Roger asks excited as we start walking down the street.

"I guess we could go to my old high school. It's nothing special though," I say as we turn left and begin our way towards Jackson High. The moment I spot the school, tons of painful memories come flooding back. That may have been the worst 3 ½ years of my life. I couldn't wait to get out of there.

"What's wrong?" Roger asks. I suddenly realize that I've stopped walking and jog to catch up with him.

"I was just replaying some of my least favorite memories. High School wasn't exactly the highlight of my life."

"And what was the highlight of your life?"

"The day I met my best friends. I wouldn't trade you guys for anything."

"You're incredibly sweet," he says before he plants a kiss on my lips. I wouldn't trade this for anything either. "Hey, wanna go make out under the bleachers?"

"Roger!"

"It was just a suggestion."

"You are such a pervert."

"Damn straight!"

"Come on, lets go see if the Jewish Community Center is still open. Maybe I can finally teach you to tango." I swear the boy has two left feet.

"Good luck with that."

"Let's go." At least now I have something to take my mind off of the upcoming family drama.

Roger

After an unsuccessful tango lesson, we stop by an old drive-in that Mark claims he used to sneak into. Apparently this is where Mark discovered his passion for movies. He was watching Psycho and decided then and there that he wanted to make films too. For me there wasn't some big revelation. As long as I can remember, I've wanted to be a musician. My grandmother even has pictures of me as a toddler, holding a fake guitar.

"So, where to next?" I ask as we begin to roam the streets once more.

"I don't know, I guess we could head over to the old park. There's not much else to do here."

"Anywhere's fine with me," Especially if it keeps him occupied. I'm not sure what else I can do for him. I've tried to comfort him, but now I'm just trying to get his mind off of everything. It's the least I can do.

"We better go before it gets too late."

"Why, is Scarsdale dangerous after dark?"

"No, I'm just not sure I know my way around here very well. I don't want to get lost."

"Don't worry Marky, I'll protect you if we get lost," I say as I slide my arm around his shoulders.

"Do you ever shut up?"

"Of course not. If I did I wouldn't be me, and you love me just the way I am."

"I never said that. I'd love to change a few things about you." See, now that is just mean.

"Like what?" I challenge.

"Your hair for one. It's a little too long. Makes you look like a girl."

"You are such an asshole," I say with a smile. He laughs, and I realize it's the first real laugh I've heard from him in almost three weeks.

"Hold on, I'm not done yet. Let's see…well, you always eat the last of the Captain Crunch and leave me the crumbs."

"Oh please, you don't even like Captain Crunch anymore."

"It's the thought that counts."

"But you always get mad when I don't eat, so what's the point."

"Who said there was a point to any of this? I'm just having fun."

"Well then, just continue making fun of me. As long as it provides you with a few good laughs." And he does continue. We go down a list of all my faults until we get to the park. The park isn't much at all though; it's basically two old swings and a broken slide.

"Looks like fun Mark. You really know how to have a good time."

"Shut up, it wasn't like that the last time I was here. It used to be nicer."

"We can still swing I guess, that way we wouldn't have come here for nothing."

"You want to swing?"

"As long as it means I can sit down, I'm up for anything." There has been way too much walking today. I need to rest for at least the next ten minutes. Yeah, I know I sound like a wimp, but get over it. We go over and sit on the swings, but we don't speak again for about 5 minutes.

"I don't know what I'm going to do tomorrow," Mark admits softly as the swing rocks back and forth.

"Don't do anything. Just mourn your mother and forget about everyone else."

"It's not that easy. I'm not like you Roger, I can't just forget about everyone else. I care about what people think of me."

"I care about what people think, I just don't let it affect the way I live my life."

"But that's you, I can't do that. I grew up being taunted and it's still hard for me to stand up and be myself, especially around my family. And on top of that, my mother just died. That alone is hard enough to deal with." His voice keeps getting louder and I'm not sure what to do. I didn't think he'd react this way. I was just trying to help.

"Mark, calm down. I was only trying to make you feel better. You don't have to get so angry." I don't think that was the right thing to say, because he immediately gets off of the swing and begins pacing in front of me.

"Don't tell me to calm down Roger. Don't you get it? I am not okay. I'm a wreck and I don't even know what the hell is going on anymore. I'm confused and I'm mad and I just can't take anymore right now. I can't deal with this."

"Deal with what, Mark, your mom's death or me?" Why did I ask that? What the hell am I saying?

"I don't know, both of them." I was afraid of that.

"So what do you want me to do? Do you want me to just leave?"

"I think I need to be alone right now. There should be another bus tomorrow morning, I can give you some money for a ticket." What? Go home?

"I was only talking about leaving the park, I didn't mean going home."

"I think it would be better if we just spent some time away from each other. You can go back to the loft and I can stay here."

"So this is it? After everything we've been through you're just going to throw me away? I thought you loved me."

"I thought so too."

After he says that I can't take it anymore. I get up and begin to walk towards the gas station I saw a few streets back. I keep hoping that Mark will come after me and tell me he's sorry, but I know he won't. The man at the gas station gives me directions to the bus, and I get there in time for the last bus to the city. I call Collins to let him know I'm coming early, and I board the practically empty train. I know I've left my stuff at his sister's house, but right now I don't care. I don't care about anything anymore. I make it back to the loft about ten o'clock, and immediately collapse onto the couch. None of this was supposed to happen. Mark and I were supposed to be happy. I mean, it took us so long to get together and now it's all falling apart. What is it, do I not deserve to be happy? Don't I deserve love just like everyone else?

My thoughts are interrupted as the phone begins to ring. I'm not in the mood to talk to anyone, so I just let the machine get it.

"SPEAK."

"Hello, this is Dr. Weimer from Mercy Hospital. I'm calling for Roger Davis in relation to Mimi Marquez…" The moment I hear Mimi's name, I race off the couch and grab the phone.

"I'm Roger."

"Mr. Davis, I'm sorry to bother you so late."

"It's no problem. So, you said something about Mimi?"

"Yes, Ms. Marquez has been a patient of ours for about a month. I'm calling because she listed you as her emergency contact."

"Is she okay?"

"I think it would be wise if you came down here. That way we can talk in person."

"Yeah, okay. I'll be there as soon as I can." I hang up and stand there in shock for a few seconds. What else is going to fucking happen today? I make my way down to the hospital quickly, but even so, it takes me about thirty minutes until I get there. When I finally step in to the hospital, I quickly ask the woman at reception about Mimi. Instead of answering me, though, she calls the doctor. By the time the doctor gets to me, I'm incredibly nervous. I hate hospitals, and the fact that Mimi's here worries me. I know we ended badly, but I'll always still love her.

"Mr. Davis?" the doctor asks.

"Yeah, is she…is Mimi okay?"

"I'm afraid not, she's very ill. Before she came here, she was living on the street. We've been doing all we can to help her, but I'm afraid it's not enough. I believe she's only holding on for the baby." Wait, what baby?

"What do you mean baby?"

"Ms. Marquez is eight months pregnant. I assumed you knew, since she listed you as the father."

"Father?" I croak out. This cannot be happening. This cannot be happening.

"Would you like to see her? Maybe that would help." I nod my head quietly and he leads me down the sterile hallway and into a small room. She looks so frail and helpless, but I can't help but be angry with her. How could she not tell me? I see the small bump in her stomach, but I'm not exactly sure what I feel. I'm mad and I'm confused, I'm curious and I'm frustrated, and deep down, I'm extremely nervous. What am I going to do? What's going to happen now?