A/N: Hey everyone! I got really excited by the great reviews that people had left me about the first part, so I really wanted to get the second part out quickly. I'm about to leave for the midnight showing of "Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Man's Chest". mmmmm Johnny Depp as Jack Sparrow…oh god. He could seriously be reading the dictionary as Jack Sparrow and I would actually sit there and listen to each and every word. Maybe it's the eyeliner – it appeals to the drama geek in me. Any guy who looks that good in eyeliner and isn't trying to be "goth" or "punk". MMMMMM. Yummy. Oh...wow…getting horribly distracted. Oh dear.
Thank you to all of my reviewers, especially Mlle7Murder who reviewed both of my fics and Happiness is a Moving Target who gave ma a great and LENGTHY review.
This story is now dedicated to my first five reviewers, especially those mentioned previously.
JUST A REMINDER: all the dialogue (the stuff in the middle) is flashbacks. Everything else is Mark reflecting on the memories and is in present time. Also, everything in italics are stage directions.
Disclaimer: RENT is not mine. The play that this fic is based off of is, however. Also, the idea for Mark and Roger's Flag Day celebration is not mine, I found it in another fic. However our celebrations are COMPLETELY different.
Last time:
Mark: That'd be great…uhh…
Roger: Roger. (Roger sticks his hand out. As they shake hands, they share a smile.)
In that moment I knew I had found a friend that I would have until the very end.
Confessional
Chapter 2 – Flag Day
(Gets up to his position DC. Lights on subway scene fade off.)
Mark: Do you remember that? It seems so long ago. It was thanks to you that I met the whole group. That I gained a family far better than the one I had left behind. It was thanks to you that I met Angel, whose sweet voice has been my moral compass, and Mimi, the comic relief that lifts my spirit. Without you, I never would have met Collins, who became the big brother that I had lusted for since I decided having an older sucked. Collins, who was always there with comfort and wisdom far beyond his years. Without you I never would have met Maureen, wild Maureen, who whispered sweet nothings in my ear, who taught me about life…and about love. Both the sweet, warm beginnings of love and the bitter endings that left you cold with a stale taste in your mouth.
But I digress; this…this isn't about Maureen. This isn't about our friends. This is about us: about the happy memories we've made and crazy things we've done together…like…(quietly laughs)...like Flag Day. Do…(quiet laugh)… do you remember Flag Day? How our ridiculous traditional celebration came about? It started, god, it must have been at least five years ago. I had been living in the loft for only four or five months, but we were already inseparable; best friends, comrades, partners in crime. We understood each other on a level that, that seemed impossible for the amount of time we had known each other. It was mid June and absolutely blistering. It was the hottest summer I had ever experienced. (Lights come up on scene stage right: two chairs and a table, Roger is already sitting in one. While speaking, Mark makes his way over to the other chair.) We were sitting in a little café in the park, trying to keep ourselves cool with lemonade.
Mark: Ok. That's it. I'm going back home. It was never this hot in Massachusetts.
Roger: What? Are you already running back to little Scarsdale?
Mark: If it's cooler than here, then hell yes!
We talked like we always did: of everything and nothing, of somethings and of nothings.
Roger: (Completely out of nowhere.) Isn't today some stupid holiday? Some fake holiday or something?
Mark: I don't know!
Roger: Well, there's a calendar on that wall over there. Go check!
I got up to check, knowing that if I told you to do it, it would end up in a fifteen minute discussion about who should go and why. I decided to skip that part and do it myself.
Mark: Flag Day. June 14th is Flag Day.
Roger: What's Flag Day?
Mark: The hell if I know!
Conversation started up again; then after about a half hour had passed, I asked you something and you didn't answer me. In fact, you weren't even looking at me – you were looking past me! I turned to look at what you were so enraptured with, almost expecting to find some pretty girl. But it wasn't a pretty girl – it was a fountain. A huge fountain filled with water.
Roger: (without looking at Mark; eyes focused on the fountain) We should probably do something to celebrate Flag Day, yeah?
Mark: (looks at Roger warily) Roger…what are you thinking?
Roger: (in a "persuasive voice") And it is awfully hot; it would be nice to cool down, yeah?
Mark: Yes…but seriously Roger, what are you planning? It had better not have anything to do with that fountain. I'm pretty sure jumping in the fountain is illegal.
Roger: (looks at Mark exasperatingly) Oh, come on. Are you honestly telling me you've never broken some stupid little law like that? Come with me, you know you want to. Just a quick splash, to cool down and celebrate Flag Day!
(Scene freezes, Mark turns to the audience) I actually allowed myself to be talked into jumping in the fountain. It was fun, though. In fact, we had a blast. We acted like five year olds, splashing and throwing water at each other. Eventually a police officer came over to us and told us to get out of the fountain. We didn't. He told a few more times, but we didn't move; we barely acknowledged his presence, we just kept splashing around. After a few more tries he and one of his officer buddies pulled us from the fountain and we had to stay overnight in jail.
Roger: (unfreezes, with laughter in his voice) It's an adventure, right?
We've done it every year since then. Each time drinking lemonade at the same café, then jumping into the fountain and staying there until the police officers drag us from it and bring us to the jailhouse to stay overnight. I never did figure out how it celebrated Flag Day, though. I guess that's the beauty of it. (Mark does not move – next scene will be played in the same space as the café scene.)
Stupid things that we always did, stupid things like that…those are my favorite memories. Don't give me that look. I know that it's not like everything has been easy for us. I remember the bad times too, ok? I just prefer to reflect on the good times; on the strengths in our relationships rather than the weaknesses and faults. I want this to be a happy conversation. I'm the optimist right? That's what you always said. You used to say…
Roger: (Seated as in scene before.) You're the one who could find the good in everybody. You could find the best in a damn murderer on Death Row, and somehow have empathy for them. 'It's just how they're raised', you would say. 'It's in their nature, they can't help who they are.' You're the one who finds the beauty in everything.
Mark: (uncomfortable with his gentle honesty, Mark interrupts, trying to lighten the situation) It's just because I'm a photographer. It's what I do, the artistic eye and all that jazz. (Roger sighs.)
I don't think you were used to these deep speeches. It wasn't really your type of thing – more of mine, really. But it seemed important for you to say, so I let you finish.
Roger: No, it's why you're good. Mark, you're the type of person who can somehow always see the rainbow, even before the storm is over. It's like you have these magical glasses that show you where to look. And you share the glasses with other people. You come into a person's life, which seems screwed up and going nowhere and somehow show that there are good things which a person should be grateful for. You give people joy, because you show them what it is. You care. You honestly care, even about people you've never met. You want to help them, to better their lives. You're the eternal optimist.
Your rare profundity was a bit of a shock; it took a moment for your words to sink it. You looked at me then with such honesty. Any joking that might have been in your tone was suddenly gone.
Roger: Don't ever change. There are too few of you in this world to begin with. (Lights go down. Mark gets up and moves towards her spot at DC.)
I never forgot that. Those last three lines. Never. They were always with me. When I was feeling down or helpless, feeling like I wasn't making any difference, I remembered what you told me. It kept me trudging on. It gave me hope that maybe I was making a difference, that maybe I was helping people. Maybe I was getting people to see the best of things, to see the truth in things. I think those three lines made more of an impact on me than any other words anyone would ever say to me.
End of Part Two.
Ok,ok, I know that Scarsdale is supposedly in New York, but I really wanted it to be in Massachusetts…so I made it in Massachusetts.
I really hope you liked it. Please review! It gives me a natural high so I don't have to resort to herion….
