Roger paced the rooftop, knowing Maureen couldn't follow him. The staircase was too much this far into the pregnancy. She had a hard enough time making it to the loft. Roger sighed and finally sank down, leaning against the brick wall lining the roof. He couldn't shake the image of her face when he'd told her what Mark said. She didn't smile, she didn't giggle or agree. The wind on his cheeks made the tears sting that much more. He made a mental note to kick Mark's ass when he got home and dried his eyes with his sleeve.
Down in the loft, Roger found Maureen still sitting on his bed. She hadn't moved a muscle. Granted, he'd only been gone ten minutes, but for Maureen's energy that was more like an hour. He sat down quietly beside her, not touching her or speaking. Only when he dared to glance up at her did he realize she was crying. Why was she crying?
"Maureen? What's the matter? I'm sorry I freaked. I just…I know you don't feel that way so I got freaked out and I was afraid you'd think…or that you'd know that…"
Roger stopped when she kissed him.
"Why'd you do that?"
"Because it's easier than saying it."
Roger nodded and stared at his jeans. "You think, um….do you think Mark's right?"
"About us being together?"
He nodded again.
"What do you think?"
Roger lifted his gaze to the wall, but couldn't bring himself to look at Maureen. "I think there's no way in the world that I'm that lucky."
"Meaning what?"
"Meaning I'm a fuck-up. Look at me, Maureen. I hurt everyone I get close to. I've screwed up every relationship I've ever been in. And part of me wants to think this'd be different, but I'm not so sure."
"Roger, name one normal relationship I've had in the time I've known you."
"Mark."
"Mark? The Mark I cheated on repeatedly and left for a woman?"
Roger gave a small smile. "Okay. Guess that wasn't so normal."
"We're both fucked up, Davis."
He nodded. "But only one of us is dying."
Maureen grabbed his shoulder, turning him to look at her. "Okay, enough of this bullshit."
"What bullshit?"
"This dance-around-the-subject, pretend-we're-talking-about-something-else bullshit. I'm in love with you and while it probably seems like the pregnancy hormones making me psycho or whatever, it's not. I love you and I really don't give a fuck about anything else."
Roger stared at her and shook his head. "You don't love me, Mo."
"What the hell is your problem?"
"What?"
"Don't tell me I don't love you."
"You don't love me and I don't love you."
"Fuck you," she muttered. She ran to Mark's room before he could stop her. He followed behind and tried to open the door. It was locked.
"Maureen, open the door." No response. "Maureen, come on! I'm sorry—we have to talk about this."
"No, we don't."
Shit. She was crying again. He could hear it in her voice. In the years they'd known each other, Roger had grown to know Maureen almost better than he knew himself. No way in hell was she opening that door while he was on the other side of it. He grabbed his jacket off the table and knocked on the door.
"I'm going for a walk. You okay here?"
"I'm fine."
He blinked back tears at her hardened tone. She didn't love him, did she? She loved that he was the father of her child, maybe, but she didn't truly love him. Roger stepped onto the street and headed to the Life Café.
