Chapter 3: I'm cold, are you cold?
The thing about his withdrawal that Roger remembers the most were his tremors. Late at night he'd wake up and couldn't stop himself from shaking so bad. Most of the time he would cry out for Mark to come and hold him, but sometimes he'd just sit alone through them just fighting them himself until they went away. It's not that Roger wanted Mark to hold him it was just that Mark did, to compare Rogers fast pace body with Mark's steady pace. Most of the time it worked to stop them. Others it didn't but Mark didn't care. He couldn't stand seeing his friend go through so much agony. Much like tonight.
Suddenly Roger was brought back to reality. He sighed heavily and shook his head. "I'm sorry, what did you say?" Roger repeated this line in his mind at least 3 times after he had said it.
This is what frustrated Mark. Roger was the most alert person he'd ever known. Little things would never pass by him because he was incredibly intelligent and had a talent for memory. Not very many people knew this about Roger. Most people perceived him as a tossed up wannabe rock star with an attitude and a few retired track marks. Mark glared at him with eyes that might have been mistaken as angry. "I said we need to talk Roger. This isn't like you."
This made Roger mad. He had no reason to upset or angry with Mark, in fact all day he'd felt sorry for Mark and the way he'd been handling himself. Early that day for the first time in years he saw Mark cry. Roger averted his thoughts back to the conversation. Recently his mind was easily wandering. Roger bared down his teeth and sneered through them, "I don't know what you're talking about Mark. I'm being the only way I feel I can be. This is me Mark, don't you know me?"
Mark shook his head. Why was he being such a cocky asshole? Mark cooled himself and reminded himself that Rogers girlfriend just died and it could take a day or two for his reaction to finally come. He'd read somewhere that's what happened when somebody incredibly close to you dies. But yet again, he'd never seen Roger react to Angels death this way. It was wearing Marks brain out to be analyzing this too much so he just nodded. He'd realized he hadn't taken off his jacket since they first came inside after finding her. He removed his jacket and spoke almost too softly to be heard in the opera house acoustics of the loft. "You're right. I'm sorry, I think its time to go to bed." It was about 2 in the morning after all.
Roger nodded in agreement heading towards the opposite end of the apartment where his room was. No thoughts came to him except that he was very tired and that it had been days since he'd gotten a decent nights sleep. Roger went into his bedroom and melted down onto the bed that was barely a foot off the floor. He laid his head back and thought about the events of the next day, what to do, and with what money to do it with. Roger would have to contact Mimi's mother and arrange a funeral fit for her. It wasn't long after these thoughts started that Roger drifted off to sleep.
In the other room Mark silently shed his sweater when a horrifying thought came to his mind. They had all gotten so wrapped up in the days events that they had forgotten to.. oh shit. Mark quickly ran to the loft door, pulling the heavy door open as fast as he could. He almost scuttled down to the apartment that Mimi Marquez once inhabited.
Or in this case still did.
As a school of flies darted in all directions Mark walked into the apartment that smelled not unlike formaldehyde. After the days events Mark realized that nobody moved her.
Mimi Marquez sat in the same position of her death, decomposing on the floor of her apartment.
For such a warm night it seemed to Maureen to be the coldest night of the year. Colder than December, colder than January, even colder than the night that Angel died. Maureen held onto Joanne so tight that Joanne felt strained to keep Maureen walking. When they arrived at the front door of their apartment, Joanne struggled through her purse to find the keys to their apartment. Behind her she felt Maureen slink her arms around Joanne's waist. She turned around knowing that Maureen had something to say.
She whispered into Joanne's ear so quietly that Joanne wasn't even sure this was the same Maureen. "I'm cold, are you cold?" The words seemed so simple and uninspired but at the moment Joanne couldn't help but rest her head against the door and cry.