XII.
March 2, 1991
It was a beautiful (well, in Roger's eyes. They got married in the end, didn't they?), simple ceremony. A civil wedding wasn't what Mimi had wanted because it wasn't as sincere as a church wedding, so thanks to Benny (he and Mark had swallowed their pride as forced by Maureen, Joanne and Mimi and had patched things up with the son of a bitch, though Roger had specifically told him he didn't want any help from him with the wedding. He still did it anyway, bastard. The guy had always been too hardheaded) and Joanne's connections, Roger and Mimi were wed in no time in one of the city's small chapels. Roger hadn't minded at all with the church thing, which he saw had surprised everyone. He was thankful he'd made peace with The Man Upstairs already, so at least he'd felt at peace as the priest made him say their vows.
"Do you, Matthew Roger Davis Jr., accept Maria Margarita Marquez to be your lawfully wedded wife..."
"I do, I do, I always will," he'd said, not waiting for the priest to finish. He knew the drill anyway and he accepted it already so who cared? He heard Maureen or Collins snort in laughter behind him.
"Wait for him to finish, doofus." Mark had smacked his arm.
"I already said 'I do'…" Roger had frowned.
"It's okay, it's okay." The priest had said and turned to Mimi, who was glowing in the simple white dress Joanne and Maureen had bought for her just the day before. "Do you, Maria Margarita Marquez…"
Mimi, unlike him, had waited for the priest to finish with the long list of promises, which nearly drove Roger nuts because the priest spoke so slowly. Finally, he'd ended.
"I do," Mimi had beamed. Roger had reached out and squeezed her hand. She'd squeezed back.
"…You may kiss the bride."
Roger had smiled so huge that moment that he thought his face would break. Mimi too had had an enormous grin on her face.
"Kiss me, Davis!" she'd squealed. "We've done it!"
It was the most breathtaking kiss Roger had ever experienced. Their friends had whooped and cheered, the best men, Collins and Mark, and the maids of honor, Maureen and Joanne. Benny had been there with Allison (though Mark had pretended he wasn't there. Roger couldn't since the bastard had helped and was a guest) and he'd joined in on the whistling and jeering. Mimi had been crying as they finished.
"Oh baby, I'm so happy…" she'd told him. "And I feel her, babe. I feel Angel's here…"
Roger had been in tears too, wishing Mark wasn't filming, and he'd nodded. "Yeah, babe, she's here…she wouldn't miss out on something as big as this one…"
And he'd really felt Angel had been there. He'd felt her happy, energetic spirit ricochet off of the walls of the chapel as he and Mimi had kissed. And he was glad. If there was anyone who should've been there, it was Angel.
"Can you fucking believe Roger Davis has gotten married?" Mark was exclaiming as he'd filmed. "Now we'll just wait for Hell to freeze over!"
After the kiss, he and Mimi had gathered their friends around for a group hug. Everyone had been patting him on the back, and congratulating him ("Matthew Roger Davis? I didn't know that you were a Matthew! Or a 'Junior' either, while we're at it!" Collins had exclaimed instead of congratulating right away), even kissing him, as Maureen had done.
"Oooh, baby boy, now I have to watch it when I kiss you! You're no longer public property!" she'd declared. "Mimi, do you mind?"
"Leave the boy alone," Joanne had said in a good-mannered way. "You're forgetting you're lesbian again!"
"Nah, he's conjugal property," Mimi had laughed in response to Maureen's question.
"Meems!" Roger had addressed his new wife in a panic. He hadn't wanted Maureen to be allowed to kiss him. Ew. "C'mon!"
"That can only mean…" Mark had sidled up to Mimi and had puckered his lips. Roger had grabbed the back of his best friend's rented suit.
"Hey hey, watch it, dork. She's mine."
"Oh baby, don't get so jealous," Mimi had said. She'd kissed Mark on the cheek, leaving a pink lipstick stain on his pale skin.
"Okay, enough of that loverboy…" Roger had laughed. It had been a noisy, happy morning for all of them. Afterwards, they went to the park to have a picnic (minus Benny, since he and Allison had a party to go to, typically) for the 'reception', still in their wedding garb so people stared at them like crazy.
"You'd better get a girlfriend fast, Mark," Collins teased as he lay back on the grass after having several sandwiches. "You might be getting a little lonely here now."
"That already transpired after Mimi moved in," Mark said as he kept a straight face, though everyone knew he was joking. "Don't worry, Meems, no hard feelings."
"So where's the honeymoon?" Joanne asked teasingly. Roger and Mimi looked at each other.
"Oh…I dunno…Mimi was thinking of Greece, weren't you, babe?" he joked.
"I thought you wanted France, honey. You know, to see the artsy stuff and all…" Mimi giggled, placing her head on his chest.
"Oh man, they're calling each other 'honey' now…" Mark pretended to barf and Roger threw a grape at him. It would've been an apple if only Mimi hadn't seen what was coming and had moved the fruit basket away before he could get one. "Gross, gross…"
"Oh wow, this was such a great day…a week ago I wouldn't even dream of Roger getting the guts to propose to Mimi!" Maureen was grinning from ear-to-ear, then her smile softened to something that Roger knew only happened whenever she thought of or remembered something. "Wouldn't it be great if our baby Angel were still here?"
"She'd be so happy for you guys," Collins said, smiling as well. "I knew she was there. You can always feel Angel whenever she's around, even when she was alive…"
"Yeah…"
They were quiet for a while, each of them lost in their own thoughts, wondering what Angel would've said, would've done to celebrate the occasion. Mark was the one who broke the silence.
"Hey, c'mon guys, let's not be sad now. This is a great day! It's Mimi and Roger's wedding day! C'mon, let's cut ourselves some slack and enjoy…I'm sure Angel would've wanted us to."
Joanne nodded in agreement. "Yeah, I agree with Mark. No day but today, right?" She smiled at Roger and Mimi, raising her Styrofoam cup of wine. "To Rog and Mimi, I wish you as much health and happiness as you deserve…"
"…which is a LOT." Maureen cut in. "Cheers, babies!"
Roger held his new wife closer to him and kissed the top of her head as the others made a toast. He wasn't feeling well again which was a bummer since it was his wedding day, but he did his best for people not to notice. It was a pretty cold day. Not really conducive to picnics, but they managed.
"Meems," Collins turned to her, "what do you and good ol' Davis here have planned?"
"Well," Mimi giggled like a little girl that had just been asked who her crush was. "I was hoping for a nice house with a little garden and a white picket fence…Preferably in a neighborhood where everyone has a barbecue on Saturdays and mows their lawn on weekend mornings and you can hear kids riding their bikes up and down the street…"
"Sounds like Scarsdale, Davis," Mark commented with a grin. He was filming again. "What do you have to say about that, eh?"
Roger waved him off. "No way, man."
"Wouldn't that be nice, babe?" Mimi turned to him, a smile on her face, her beautiful chocolate brown eyes twinkling with mirth. He knew she was teasing, since everyone did know that they would never have anything like it. He knew though that Mimi also did want something like it, genuinely, and he felt a twinge in his heart, knowing he could never give it to her, no matter how much he wanted to…even if it did sound like Scarsdale. He decided not to humor the idea. It hurt talking about what they could've had, if only they didn't have the stupid disease.
"Sorry, babe, I don't think a struggling musician can pay for that. Or would thrive in that environment," he kissed her forehead gently. "Try 'cold, dusty loft with geeky filmmaker roommate and appliances that barely work'. That's all the poor guy you sadly call your husband can afford."
Mimi slapped his shoulder playfully, laughing. Mark retorted with a 'Hey!' and Collins laughed his deep throaty laugh.
"At least imagine, Rog. Sheesh, man, must you be that blunt?" She tore off a piece of the tuna sandwich that lay on her plate and popped it into her mouth, sidling closer to him. "Me, making lemonade during the summer, you on the hammock, reading the Sunday paper…"
"…both of you having sex on the kitchen counter…" said Maureen with an evil cackle.
"Maureen!" Joanne reprimanded. Roger had to laugh.
"I must say this is even better than Benny's wedding to Muffy," Collins said happily. "At least we don't get to act like we have rods pushed up our asses the whole time."
"Ugh. Good thing I didn't go. You're too nice, Collins. You should try being mean for once," Maureen commented with a face.
"Yeah, you already have a role model with Maureen here…" Roger said. He ducked as the drama queen threw an empty paper plate in his direction. "HAH! Missed!"
SPLAT! Roger felt something wet hit his face, blocking his vision, and Maureen's malevolent crowing filled his ears. He felt Mimi tense beside him, then as she shook with laughter seconds after.
"What the fuck…" he heard Collins say.
Whatever had landed on his face slowly slid off and it took Roger several seconds before he realized what it was as the sour smell invaded his nostrils and several drops landed on his lips, allowing him a taste.
It was mustard. The bitch had thrown mustard at him! Roger wiped the stuff off of his eyes and saw Maureen already on her back, knocked over from laughing, a huge spoon covered with yellow stuff in her hands. Joanne sat beside her, her mouth open in shock and Collins was right there, a smile already forming on his lips as if recovering from his own surprise.
"Maureen…you just didn't…"
SPLAT! Something hit the back of his head. Something cold. It dripped down to his neck and onto his rented tux.
"WHAT THE FUCK…!" he yelled in surprise, whipping around. He caught the mischievous grin on Mimi's face. His hand flew back and touched the back of his head. It came back wet, sticky, cold and covered in white stuff. Ice cream.
"MIMI!" he exclaimed. "What the hell…!"
He was about to ask if she'd gone crazy when mustard hit Mimi as well. On the side of her face as well as her dress, staining it an icky yellow. Her mouth looked as if it was unhinged from shock. Maureen laughed harder.
"FOOD FIGHT!" Collins announced as he got hold of the bowl that held the relish they'd brought for burgers.
"Oh God no, guys, guys…" Joanne attempted to stop anything from happening but she became the third victim of Maureen's mustard-flinging frenzy.
It was utter chaos. Assorted sauces, meat products, fillings, creams and pieces of fruit flew through the air. Roger used the picnic basket as a shield since Mark was targeting him with the Jell-O. He was already covered with stains and smears and already smelled like mustard, tuna fish, and other things. His hands were so goddamned sticky that it was disgusting, but Roger was having the time of his life. Fuck the dry-cleaners. He hadn't had a food fight since highschool, mainly because they had no food to fight with most of the time.
He ducked when Mark flung a glob of Jell-O.
"Cohen, you still suck at aiming!" he yelled gleefully. He was about to say something else when something flew up and hit him in the face. When he wiped it off with a splutter, something pushed him back to lie down. Mimi's eyes twinkled merrily down at him as soon as he could see.
"How does the wedding cake taste like?" she asked, grinning. Roger smiled back and placed his hands on her hips as she held him down, her hands on his chest.
"Like revenge when I get back at you for it," he replied.
"Good, because I'll be expecting it." Mimi slowly leaned forward and, before he could say anything else, took his breath away with the most knock-your-socks-off-kiss. Roger could swear he could see stars as soon as he tasted her sweet, icing-covered lips on his. He breathed in her scent, the ends of her hair tickling his face, held her close to him and told her exactly how he felt for her by how he returned her kiss.
"Close-up on the newlyweds!" Mark announced, circling the couple like a starved vulture. Roger would have hit him, had the musician noticed he was there, but for those precious moments, nothing existed in his world but him and his beautiful new wife.
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"Oh, Matthew, he's gorgeous! Hello, little boy, what's your name?"
He's six years old again, clinging to his father's pants, a blond little boy dressed in a suit, face-to-face with a woman with too much makeup on. It makes her look like a clown, but he knows better than to say it out loud.
He feels his father tap him smartly on the shoulder.
"Go on, say your name. Mrs. Van Morton is asking you what it is."
"Roger…" he starts to say, but his father interrupts him.
"That's not your name. What did Daddy tell you?" He hears as his father's tone changes and he knows that he's on dangerous ground.
"My name is Matthew Roger Davis Jr., Mrs. Van Morton."
His father pats him on the head approvingly. "Good boy."
They had just arrived in the loft when Collins asked the question Roger had hoped from the beginning that no one would ask.
"Hey, yeah, I forgot...Roger, I never knew you had a second name! Or, maybe to put it more aptly, first name since it comes before 'Roger'." Collins said, placing a hand on his shoulder as they entered their apartment.
Roger visibly cringed at the question, since he hadn't expected it to be brought up. As much as he loved the guy, he hated the fact that the philosopher had the annoying ability to ask the questions he never wanted to answer, like he had some How-To-Get-On-Roger-Davis'-Nerves radar. Fuck. Good old Collins.
"Yeah, babe, even I never knew you had another name." Mimi grinned up at him, her arm slinked around his waist.
"'Matthew'…so sexy, but not really rock star-ish…good thing you dropped the 'Junior', honey," Maureen commented, a devilish smile on her face as she circled around the living room, wiping some of the food stains off of her skin with a wet towel. She rolled the name around in her tongue and said it several times, which irked the musician.
Mark was still filming them as they went around the loft, making scanty attempts to clean themselves with paper towels or pieces of clothes. Roger noticed the filmmaker hadn't made a move in answering the question for him and he threw him a look. Fuck it. Whenever he needed Mark to open his big mouth to save his ass, his best friend would usually be just as dumbstruck as he was.
"It's on my birth certificate, give it a break," Roger frowned, shrugging off Collins' hold. "C'mon, like you guys don't have middle names. Mark's is Aaron, for fuck's sake. And he's a 'Junior' too, named after an uncle of his."
"Well, yours isn't really a middle name. It is kinda weird that you're called 'Roger' and not 'Matthew'," Joanne said with a light shrug and a hint of a smile. "Are you on the run or something?"
"Mmmm, 'Matthew'…" Mimi cuddled up to him. "Not bad."
Roger scowled, hating the fact that his friends thought all of this was amusing. Why the hell did Joanne have to ask for his full name for the wedding? He'd known it would lead to something like this. He should've just kept it to himself and said 'just Roger Davis', like he'd trained himself to do. But no, his tongue had reacted faster than his mind did the second Joanne asked, and before he knew it, she had jotted his name down. It had taken several minutes before he'd realized what he'd done and by that time, Joanne had gone.
"Meems, don't. I hate that name. I fucking hate it. Don't…don't call me that…just don't." He was annoyed but he was trying hard not to snap, which wasn't easy. If he went ballistic now he could ruin the whole day for everyone, and he didn't want that.
"What's wrong, babe?" Mimi frowned, clearly distressed by his behavior.
"Look, it's my father's name. I don't use it because it's his. Only my father calls me 'Matthew' and I fucking hate it. Let's just leave it alone," he said carefully, fighting to keep his temper at bay. An image of his father flew to his mind and he almost growled. Mimi held his face with her hand but he lowered his head.
"Easy, relax, baby. I'm sorry…okay, okay we'll quit it."
Roger could barely look at her, not wanting for her to see what remembering his old man did to him. He was so goddamn infuriated every time he did. It was his wedding day, for fuck's sake. He had a right to be happy for once without the bastard coming to ruin everything.
"Thanks." He muttered, keeping his head down.
The wind howled outside and as it entered the loft. No one spoke, unsure of what to say, but exchanged glances with each other. Like a sign from hell, the phone rang, but nobody approached to answer it. Mimi was about to do so but Mark stopped her with the raising of his hand. She backed off. Screen.
"Speak!"
Mrs. Cohen's reedy voice immediately echoed off of the thin walls of the loft.
"Mark, honey, are you there? Pick up if you are because we have something important to tell you. Honey? I guess I have no choice but to tell you now since you aren't there…honey, are you still roommates with the Davis boy? Matthew's son? I hope you are because…Oh Mark, I'm afraid we have some bad news…Leslie, Matthew's wife, got into a car accident…she's pa—"
For the first time, Mark rushed over to the phone and snatched it from its cradle so fiercely that the wire it was connected to was almost pulled out. Roger felt himself go pale and immediately felt sick at the mention of his mother's name and the words 'car accident' used in the same sentence. He felt as time stopped as Mark stood there with the phone to his ear, speaking to his mother in a hushed voice. He wanted to approach his best friend, get the phone from him and let Mrs. Cohen tell him herself. But he couldn't. His shoes seemed to be nailed to the floor.
Mark took forever.
"Mark, what the fuck is going on?" Roger found his voice. Mark had slowly put the phone back seconds ago, but didn't say anything. He just ran a hand through his hair, his back turned to all of them.
"MARK!"
Roger found the strength to approach his best friend in quick strides and grabbed him roughly by the shoulders and forced him to turn around.
"What did your mother tell you?" he demanded. He was so fucking frightened that it took all of his strength not to shake the brains out of Mark or yell. "Tell me, dammit!"
Mark looked back at him, his blue eyes glassy, like he didn't want to believe what he already knew.
"Your…your Mom and Dad got into a fight…and she left the house to come here supposedly and look for you…she…she got into an accident on the way here…." Mark said haltingly.
Roger felt weak. He let go of Mark and ran his hands through his hair, a nervous habit, trying hard not to panic.
"She…she got into an accident? Wh—Where'd they…where'd they take her? I've got to…I gotta go see…."
"Roger…Rog,"
Mark grabbed his shoulders as he rambled.
"Roger, she…she died. She was brought to the hospital but she still died. My…my parents were there and held her hand…Rog, I'm sorry, buddy, I really am…I know you two were…."
Roger jerked his hand off, his mind spinning as if it were in some sort of cyclone. Mark reached out to hold his shoulders again.
"Don't touch me." Roger told him.
"Rog, I…"
"I said don't FUCKING touch me!" He shoved Mark away with all of his might, sending the filmmaker crashing into a nearby wall. From behind him, Mimi screamed, but he didn't hear her. His mother's voice filled his head, snippets of memories he thought he'd abandoned but now came back with a vengeance, drowning him in a tidal wave of grief as he remembered.
"What story do you want for tonight, honey?"
"Oh, Roger, I'm sorry Daddy couldn't make it for your game, but I was there, wasn't I? You were great!"
"Now Daddy and I won't be long…you're my brave boy, aren't you? You're my little soldier…."
He could still remember the night he'd left. It had been two nights after he'd found out he'd been accepted to Harvard, which he'd viewed as a death sentence. His father was going to host a huge bash for it, but he hadn't wanted it, hadn't wanted to enter his father's world of money and important people and the never-ending tirade of meetings and parties to make them feel important. He'd said goodbye to his mother with a letter, but she'd still seen him go.
"I'll be fine…."
"You don't know what can happen, Roger…please, don't do this…I'll talk to your father. There's got to be some way to compromise…."
He cuts her off. He doesn't want to hear anymore.
"Mom, I'm doing this and you can't do anything to stop me. I don't…I don't want to end up like Dad.This ismy life, Mom. Not his. I want to live it the way I want to…."
His mother bites her lip. He knows she's upset, but also knows that she agrees with him.
"You should talk to your father…you can't run away from everything, Roger."
He stares at her. He can't handle this any longer.
"I have to go, Mom. I love you." He pulls her into a hug and kisses her forehead. Funny how their roles have changed. It's like she's the child and he's the parent. She's crying now, which makes him uncomfortable.
"I can't do anything to make you stay?" Her eyes are begging him to think things over and face his problems like a man. But he isn't going to be swayed. As much as he loves her, she won't ever understand the relationship he has with his father. If he stays any longer, he might just kill himself.
"No, Mom. I'll see you." He hitches his duffel bag up his shoulder, the giant Nike one that was essentially bought for college packing, the only non-dorky one. The rest are all suitcases and things.
He knows that seeinghis mother soonmight be next to impossible, as there's no chance that he's ever coming back to Scarsdale, but he tells her that anyway to make her feel better.
"I love you, baby. Be careful, please. Keep warm…tell me where you are once you get there. Here, don't forget this…."
She rushes back inside the house and, seconds later, comes out with his leather jacket in her hands that he's just bought. When his father saw it, he threatened to have it burnt, because there was no way that his son 'was 'going to become some sort of hippie, rebel rocker with no meaning in life'.
"Oh Mom, thanks…." He takes it and slips it on. His mother watches him with a fond look, though her eyes reflect a deep sadness.
"Promise, you'll tell me how you're doing and where you are. Promise me, Roger."
"I promise."
That was over seven years ago and he'd broken his word. Roger felt an overwhelming sense of guilt, rage, grief and sadness wash over him.
Run, he had to run…he needed to escape.
He bolted for the door but collided with Collins who held him.
"Let me fucking go!" he yelled.
"Roger, calm down, man…." Collins said sternly. "I know this is a bad time, but you're not going to run away from it…."
"FUCK YOU!" he spat at the philosopher. "You don't own me! You don't know…you don't know…."
He kicked, punched and hit Collins as much and as hard as he could, but the bigger man wasn't letting him go. Instead, the philosopher embraced him.
"I had a mother once, too," was the only thing Collins spoke into his ear. Roger was so exhausted from his efforts that he gave up in hitting and let his arms fall limply to his sides. Tears stung his eyes and he hastily wiped them away, not wanting for the others to see.
"I promised her…I promised her…." He kept saying shakily, the guilt eating him alive. His mother had been an item on his list. He'd planned on taking her out after so long of not even telling her where he was, and say goodbye properly. There was no doing that now, and it hurt like hell, knowing the night he'd left was the last memory he'd ever have of his mother: crying, sad and believing in a promise he'd never kept.
"You're not alone in this, man…" Collins tightened his hug, like he wanted to let Roger feel that they were there and never going to leave him. "It's okay…it's okay…."
A strangled sob escaped from Roger's throat and he held his head down, his throat tightening and his tears falling freely, forming one giant puddle on Collins' shirt.
"She went looking for me, Col…." he stammered through his tears. "I should've…I should've…fuck…."
Collins said nothing but just held him. After a few seconds, he felt Mimi's slender hands rub his back as she too joined in on the hug. Maureen and Joanne came too, as did Mark, who placed a hand on Roger's shoulder and gripped it firmly. There they were, a tangle of arms, fingers, perfume, hair, tears, stains and emotions, like their own fortress to escape from the bitch called life.
"We're here, baby…" Mimi whispered in his ear as she held onto him. "Please don't run away this time…."
Roger cried harder. It was all he needed for him to decide to stay.
A/N: This is a chapter of extremes, since it yo-yos from ecstacy to intense sadness. This was a little weird for me to write because it wasn't exactly how I imagined presenting Roger's Mom, but oh well. BTW, whenever the dates at the beginning of the chapters are accompanied by a subtitle, like the previous 3 chapters, that means Roger's fulfilling something on his list. :) Just so you guys know.