"Roger…we don't have to do this if you don't want to…but please don't make me feel like shit about the things that I've done…"
"I'm sorry, Mo, but you knew the past would come up sooner or later, but you weren't the jackass who bolted at the first sign of pain! I'm the one to blame. We should still be together, but now look where we are! We've finally found some peace. What if this fucks up all we've worked towards?" There was a knock on the door—it was Mark.
"Everyone still alive in there?"
"YEAH!" Roger and I screamed in unison, then I started giggling wildly.
"Hey Rog, remember that time in the--"
"JANITOR'S CLOSET! Oh God I forgot! That was a great fuck, Mo!" Collins cleared his throat at the mention of vaginal sex, and announced we should "get the show on the road".
"Ready, Rog?"
"Just one more thing I've been wondering…" He moved closer to me.
"Wha—oh—mmm" He had interrupted my inquiry by pulling me close and kissing me passionately, his hands moving to my breasts, but it felt surprisingly right and normal. God how I've missed him. After a long moment, he broke away, both of us trying to catch our breaths after the fiery kiss.
"Question answered."
"Oh yeah? What was that?" I asked, accidentally in a sensual and seductive tone, his face the exact representation of my own surprise. We looked into each other eyes for a moment, regretfully, but then he smiled at me, brushing a curl from my face and cupping the side of my face in his hand.
"We've still got it, babe. I always wanted to kiss you again…but we may never get another chance." At the realization that we could really never be together, have the relationship that I longed for, I pouted unconsciously, and he laughed, hugging me tightly, "Mo, I'm glad to have this back."
"What's 'this'?" He looked at me gently, searching for the right words to describe his thoughts, meanwhile fixing my messed up lipstick, or at least making it look less obvious that we had just made out, considering that our girlfriends were waiting for us to make an appearance.
"Our friendship. Let's stay close. And let's go out there and show them our crap, so we can all move on." On that note, we bounded out of the room, his arm around my shoulders, Collins stumbling behind, looking somehow violated by our kiss.
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"FINALLY you three! We thought Rog and Mo were either killing each other or fucking. And Collins had passed out from despair." Mimi was so spunky and adorable; Roger was really lucky to have her.
"Well, maybe we were…" I said slyly, looking at Roger, who just chuckled and rubbed my arm.
"You wish, Maureen." We looked at each other, and he and I knew that we both wished for another chance, even though on the outside it sounded like a joke. The rest of the group chuckled briefly, before getting suspicious about our creepy, nonverbal eyeball communication.
"You guys? What's going on?" It was Mark who spoke it, but the question was in everyone's eyes. I smiled innocently and crawled into Joanne's lap, Roger sitting between Joanne and Mimi on the couch. I squeezed his hand, as we began.
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"Roger?" Mimi was cleaning out my closet. Again. I'd fallen asleep.
"Hmm?"
"What's this?" I groaned in response, realizing this meant I would have to sit up and look. She was holding an ancient shoebox filled with dusty pictures of me when I was in high school…pictures of me singing to my girl, kissing her, her holding my guitar…
"High school."
"Who's this chick? She looks like…" Don't say her name, Meems, don't.
"My girlfriend." I said firmly, so that she would know to back off. It worked, but now I wanted to see them again. I found a picture of her singing while I played my guitar…
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"Rog-ey, show me how to play guitar?" She was so damn cute when she pouted.
"Maureen…you know I don't trust anyone with her!"
"Her? It's a her? Do you love her more than you love me?" She pouted more, her perfected puppy dog look. I pulled her close and looked into her eyes, immediately on the guilt trip to end all guilt trips. She was beautiful. I kissed her firmly, my hands wandering down to her incredible ass…
"Roger!"
"What?"
"That's embarrassing!"
"What? You're hot. It's not like there's a part of you that I haven't touched!" She sighed, realizing that I was right. Her eyes went cold and distant…I knew she was thinking about that first night…
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"Benji? What's wrong?" The little boy sounded terrified. I couldn't understand what he was saying, but I was terrified. Had something happened to Mo? I ran down the sidewalk to the house, and saw flames. Fuck. What to do…hose…get the hose…no first Benji…get Benji…go inside. Where is she? Where's Maureen? Oh God she better be okay…I got into the house finally, to discover it was only a minor fire…started in the fireplace…whatever she was burning wasn't all the way in, though, a piece of something had acted as a fuse.
"Ben? Where are you?" The next thing I knew, the little six year old had jumped into my arms, scared to death, "where's your sister?"
"I don't care. Mo doesn't love Benji." He resumed sucking on his thumb, but he was crying. Poor little guy—what does he mean she doesn't love him? Wonder what's gotten into her…
"Benj, is she upstairs?" He nodded.
"Door locked...music's too loud." I messed with his hair as I put him down, and told him to go play next door, then managed to get the fire out pretty quickly. I was used to doing it because my parents frequently fell asleep with cigarettes or burned random things when they were drunk to create heat.
"MAUREEN! OPEN THE DOOR!" I stood there, pounding on the door, for about five minutes before she came shuffling over to the door, clad only in a white towel, which was slightly too small to cover her. She had a very nice figure, and usually had beautifully perfect pale skin that went wonderfully with those huge hazel eyes and luxurious dark curls, but today she looked a mess. Her hair was still wet, her skin lacking in its usual luster, her eyed bloodshot, though I didn't see and fresh track marks. Her left ankle was bleeding profusely. I was very concerned about her (though I didn't let her see it just yet); she was always so troubled, and lately had been more out of it than usual.
"Shit Maureen, what's going on around here?" I didn't mean to sound as abrasive and judgmental as I did, and wished I could retract my tone, though she seemed to out of it to notice. When I informed her about the small matter of her almost burning the house down, and she freaked. She tended to get lost in the darkness of her own pain and ignore the rest of the world. That had always worried me. I tried to get her to look into my eyes. We had a connection…it was all about the eyes. I started to yell at her about her lack of responsibility out of concern for her six year old brother, mostly because she had never neglected him before like that. She had been slumming with this creepy slimy man who was twelve years older than we were, but wouldn't stop with him. She flirted wildly with anything that had balls and didn't usually care about the outcome, though surprisingly she was still a virgin…she was sobbing now, and everything fell into place. I looked her over gently, only now noticing the bruises on her body, gently tilting her head upwards so that I could see into her eyes, and felt completely helpless, drowning in my concern for her, drowning in her eyes…she was pissed at me, though I couldn't focus on what she was screaming. It was at this precise moment that I realized that I loved her, and I always had, but it didn't matter right then…I was too overwhelmed by my revelation…
"He raped you." I stated it. I was positive that was exactly what had happened, even though I hadn't really put it into words in my head. I could tell from her reaction that I was dead on, and she couldn't believe how perceptive I was, or perhaps was kicking herself for being so obvious, but also that the full gravity of the situation was beginning to sink in. Her gorgeous, naked body was curled up on the floor on a pile of clothes that were somewhere between clean and dirty, writhing in pain, wracked in sobs, and after the initial awkwardness of her bare, bruised flesh sunk in (I had never seen her naked before), I held her in my arms, trying to console her…but there was something incredibly attractive about this new, soft, broken girl that I had never seen before…I didn't want to hurt her or take advantage of her, but I realize how much I truly loved her. I knew that I had hurt her in the past with cruel words because I tormented her at school, but she had never shown me that she was bothered by it, she was understanding. She had been hurt a lot in her lifetime, but even then it was rarely that I had seen her cry, even as a young child when my father had gotten out of control at one of my birthday parties and abused her. God I hope he didn't rape her, too. She'd forgiven me immediately, but wouldn't come over to my house after that day, and had gotten very quite for a couple of months afterwards. I just wanted her to know that I was there for her and loved her. As a teenage boy, there was no other way that I could think of to show her than to hold her and love her gently…as gently as I could. I absently slid my hands over her breasts, fondling the perfect, creamy mounds, feeling her nipples harden. She moaned, unaware of the soft, almost silent release, and I got scared, feeling like I was taking advantage of her…
She put her mouth over mine, with intense need, which scared me but I also found to be extremely sexy. I had never felt that I really mattered to anyone for who I was. It may sound stupid, but it is really hard to be popular in high school. I'd made out with girls before, even had sex with them, but honestly I had only felt like an object that they wanted to obtain—not to sound like a girl or anything, but it had never meant anything. I never thought that mattered, until I felt myself rise up between her legs—her gorgeous, perfect, yet bruised thighs…I didn't want to hurt her. Her pelvis tilted into me, and my excitement continued to rise, and she pulled my pants of quickly, desire consuming her entire existence. Oh, what the fuck. You both want this! You love her. Go for it! Following suit, I ripped my t-shirt off as quickly as I could, and we moved together as one…
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With my Maureen, at the hospital, the very same day that she said she would be my girl, after the most amazing sex that I had ever had. She's terrified, gripping my hand as though it will insure that she is okay and without child. Poor baby girl…I should've been nicer to her. Maybe she never would've gotten raped…maybe we would've been together this whole time. I can't believe I was such a jerk. But I love her, and it's all going to be okay now. The nurse came back, telling us that there was a little vaginal tearing, as is expected in the case of rape, but she wasn't pregnant, and she didn't have any nasty diseases either.
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Our one-year anniversary. I had remembered it, but she hadn't. I wasn't surprised—she never remembered her own birthday. Usually I didn't remember things like that, but I had secretly always longed for someone that I could be sentimental with. I was writing a son g for her, and my band wasn't satisfied with the fact that I had written it for a girl, and because of that it was relatively mushy. But I had always been the lone romantic in the group, despite my seemingly crude exterior, though that image of me had sort of shifted as I attempted to accommodate to Maureen. She was loud and proud publicly, but soft, broken, hurting and afraid on the inside. Adorable, pessimistic, masochistic, morbid at times…but she was sweet, kind, caring…and she loved me. For some reason, she was always afraid that I would ditch her for someone who was cooler, which I couldn't help but blame myself for. If I hadn't been such a jerk and made fun of her so much, she probably would've had a bit more self-esteem. I had let her down.
"So are we gonna go through this song again or what? I mean, I'm cool if you don't want to, Rog, since you know how much I adore this song, but…if we're gonna perform it tonight, we need to do some work."
"Let's do this!" I said, snapping out of my daze.
OutspokenEasily broken
You never thought
We'd make it
I couldn't take it
But look at us now
We've jumped
Over the moon
We're among the
The stars now…
Beautiful baby
Shattered mirror reflects
Pains of the past
Pick up the pieces
Just look around
Look at us now
We're okay
Don't worry about
Any day but today
We're over the moon
Lifted out of our tombs
Life has begun
You're mine,
Forever and all time
Don't need anyone
But you…
Your eyes so warm,
So full of passion
And I drown in your eyes,
The ones that
Burn so deep into me
Know all
Before I tell
And I know
We were meant to be
You're my heartbeat
My lifeblood
My heartbeat
So let's go over the moon
We'll fly high
Higher than before
Live a life gleaming
Brilliant golden love
Lift us and
Take us away
We are as one
My love
And our star's due
For shooting
Let's leap
Let's fly
Let's soar
Over the moon
Over the moon…"Okay guys. I think we've got it down now. We've got four hours 'til the show, so go do…whatever it is that you do. See you at 7. Peace!" I quickly packed up my guitar and ran over to Mo's.
"Maureen! You there?" I was knocking on her door frantically, and when she didn't answer, I went back outside and climbed up through her window. It was always unlocked, because I used it so often. I found her huddled in her bathroom, wearing only a thong and bra, crying, "Sweetie, what's wrong?" I took her in my arms, concerned, noting several cuts on her wrist, but not addressing it. I rocked her in my arms, holding her until she fell asleep, knowing that she was too out of it tell me anything, and I didn't want to push her, didn't want to break her. Oh Maureen…break my heart…do what you will…just don't leave me alone! I lifted her, gently, and put her on her bed. I looked at her bleeding wrists, cleaned them up, and assessed the damage. The cuts weren't that deep. At least she wasn't trying to kill herself. Then I looked at her chest, the rest of her body, to see if she had done anything else, finding several cuts between her legs. Oh my God, what is she doing to herself? I want to bring her back to me…I wonder what happened? I left a note beside her bed saying that she should come to the show, and I had a surprise for her afterwards, also adding that I loved her. I got out of her room quickly and ran over to Collins' place, not knowing whom else to talk to.
"Yo! Davis! What's up?" he inquired cheerfully, embracing me in the way that he always did, which always made me a tad uncomfortable. He stepped back, assessing my expression, and finally asked, "It's the girl, isn't it? What happened?" I nodded, eyes glazed over with tears that I wouldn't show to anyone in the world but Collins. He led me into the house, and sat with me on the couch, and let me find the words to express the profound pain that I felt. I told her what had happened, how I had just found her there, bleeding, so far gone…
"I don't know what to tell you. I think Mo's the best thing that's ever happened to you, but she's a really messed up girl. She needs a lot, but you gotta remember, so do you. You two complement each other well, but between you, you've got enough baggage to make the world cave in on itself. I'm not saying you should leave her—don't do that, but you both got some stuff to work out. Watch her carefully, Davis, don't let her slip away. Now, I have to go to a meeting. Go get that girl, and don't let her go. She needs you to be there." I nodded, shocked that he had been so perceptive without me saying all that much. He was always far wiser than his years.
I went back to Maureen's, back through the window, to find her still asleep. I threw out the note that I had left, and lay down in the bed, across from her, watching her sleep. She's so beautiful, such an angel when she sleeps…I stroked her hair gently, and kissed her forehead. Her eyes fluttered open, and she smiled seeing me there.
"Hey Rog. What're you doing here?" I tenderly took her wrist in my hands and kissed the cuts that she had put there. She trembled, moving away from me, trying to free her wrist, but I wouldn't let her get away. I pulled her in closer to me and she struggled to get away, but finally, overwhelmed, gave in to my embrace. Her whole body shook, she soaked my shirt, but I didn't care. I wasn't letting her go. We stayed like that for a long time, until she had finally calmed and slid out of my embrace, but as she moved away I took her hand in mine, and we lay there, just looking at each other. Finally I broke the silence.
"Why'd you do it?" I was careful with my tone this time, keeping it soft, cautious. Her voice came out in a jagged, quiet whisper, afraid and ashamed—somehow reminding me of a mouse.
"I…don't…I just…never mind," she was clearly in a lot of pain, emotionally, and was having a hard time saying that which her eyes told me she wanted so badly to let out. For the first time, I had absolutely no idea what was wrong, and it scared me. I couldn't do anything but sit there and try to soothe her, and I felt that she was beginning to break away from me. Why can't she tell me what's wrong? Why won't she talk to me?
Once she had pulled herself together I told her the things that the note I had previously written and discarded, and she said she always loved my shows and was sure that it would make her feel better to get out. She told me that she needed to get dressed so I should go, and I told her that I would go if she could guarantee that she wouldn't hurt herself. She sighed and tossed the blade that she had used to me, and I put it in my pocket, kissing her intensely, and told her that I would be back in twenty minutes to pick her up. She smiled at me with sad eyes, trying to convince me that she would be okay and told me that she couldn't wait, which I believed. I was excited for her to hear my song…she would love it. I hoped it would cheer her up and help get her out of this funk…
"Maureen? You ready to go?" I had returned promptly when I said I would, knowing full well that she would need at least five minutes more than I had given her, simply because she was never one to be on time for anything. I had climbed up through her window, and was sitting on her bed as she fussed with her makeup in the bathroom. When she emerged, she looked stunning. She was wearing a short, tight leather skirt (though not short enough to reveal her cuts, obviously) with fishnets and knee height leather boots and a tight red v-necked tank top. She had her thick leather cuff watch on one wrist, and on the other a leather cuff with a lock on it.
"Wow, Mo…you look…"
"Ridiculous? I can change if you…"
"No! You look fantastic. I've never seen anything more beautiful in my life. I promise."
"You don't think it's a bit much?" She looked a little embarrassed at the revealing nature of her outfit, not because she usually wore modest clothes, but this was way more revealing than usual.
"Definitely not. You have a gorgeous body, and shouldn't be afraid to show it off." She blushed a little, lowering her head so that her eyes didn't meet mine, so I lifted her chin and reassured her, "You look great. Now let's go so I can show you off!" She laughed, which made me relax a little, because it was a sound that I hadn't heard in a while, since she was drowning in her pain, but I couldn't figure out what had been bothering her.
I sang the song that I had written for her with all the emotion that my being could muster, and I saw her start to cry in the corner of the café where she sat. I knew that the song had touched her, and that made me happy. At least she knew how much I loved her and wanted to be there for her. Afterwards, when I got off stage, I didn't see her in the corner where I knew she had been sitting, and I freaked out a little bit.
"Hey guys? Have any of you seen Mo?" I was asking everyone where she was, and nobody seemed to know. I headed towards the restrooms, and sighed. I really didn't want to go into the ladies room to look for her, but I was almost positive that she was in there. I waited for ten minutes or so, just to make sure that she didn't validly have to pee or something, because I really didn't feel like embarrassing her and myself like that. I braced myself and pushed the door open. Fortunately, there didn't seem to be anyone in there, which I made sure of by counting the people going in and coming out.
"Maureen? Are you in here?" I listened carefully, and heard someone throwing up. I resorted to looking at the bottoms of stalls, and spotted her boots. The door was, obviously, locked, so I went into the adjoining stall, and peered over the top, standing on the toilet, "Sweetie, are you okay?" She glared at me, since obviously she wasn't okay, she was puking her guts out. I crawled under the stall wall, which was difficult, but I somehow managed it. Her sickness persisted, and I wondered suddenly if it she had forced herself to throw up, or if something was really wrong with her, but nonetheless I soothed her, held her hair back, and when she was finished, I pulled her onto my lap, "Honey, do you want to go home now?"
"No, Rog, really, I'm fine. That song was really amazing. I appreciate it so much…it just…it was so beautiful."
"I'm glad you liked it. It took me a long time to get it to where I liked the way it sounded, and I didn't want it to be anything less than perfect for you. I just wanted you to realize how much you mean to me, and I want you to be happy, baby. Are you sure you're okay? You've been a little distracted for the past couple of days…"
"I think I'm just PMS-ing or something. I'll be okay."
"That doesn't explain the puking…"
"Oh, honey, you worry too much about me! I promise I am okay. Now let's go celebrate this anniversary that I forgot about."
"Okay babe. You have got to stop scaring me shitless though."
"Aww I'm sorry sweetie! I just haven't been myself lately."
"Okay, I'll make a compromise here. I'm gonna take you back to your house, but I've got something to give you."
"Oooh! Yay! That sounds good." I laughed at her reaction, and we got up and went back to her house. As soon as we got to her house, she brushed her teeth, and I watched her through the partly open door. She didn't know I was watching, however, and I noticed the hateful way that she glared at her reflection in the mirror, she couldn't stand to look at it. She cursed herself quietly, almost silently, as she spat toothpaste foam into the sink. She emerged from the bathroom several minutes later, after staring at herself in the mirror. I didn't know what to make of the situation, but I didn't bother her.
"Everything okay, Mo?"
"Yeah, I'm fine. Why?" She seemed utterly puzzled that I would be at all concerned about her for any reason at all.
"Oh, no reason. You just took a while, that's all."
"You're sweet. I promise I'm okay. Really!" I stared at her skeptically, and she came over, straddling my lap, and kissed me.
"So…you have something for me?" She asked, somewhat seductively, tracing her finger over my chest.
"Oh yeah! So, as you know, we have been going out for a year, and you have been my best friend since…forever. So I got you something to show you how much I love you." I pulled out a cow-shaped ring box from my pocket (I can't explain it, but when I saw the cow, it seemed to go with her personality. And then it inspired my song, the jump over the moon alluding to the nursery rhyme. At the time, I thought it was brilliant.) She squealed, and opened it, then her breath caught as she stared.
"Oh my God, Roger…it's…oh my God." It wasn't much, I had thought, a simple silver band, with an intricate design around. Inside of the ring there was an engraving which read "MJ I will love you always and forever RD".
"It's not a contract, but I want to be with you forever. And I want you to know that even if something happens, I will still love you." I slid it onto her ring finger, and she examined it gently, her eyes tearing up slightly,
"Roger, it's perfect. I don't know what to say…I love you too." She started to cry and excused herself to the bathroom again. I got concerned when she hadn't come out ten minutes later, and gingerly opened the door, which didn't have a lock on it.
"No…Roger…go away…I don't want you to see this." I continued to push the door open, seeing blood again.
"Baby…why'd you do that?" I was puzzled, and knew immediately that there had to be something that she wasn't telling me.
"You deserve better than me. You shouldn't love me…I can't even love myself. I'm just a fucked up girl trying to find my own peace of mind." Why does she feel so inconsequential and stupid all the time? What is she hiding? I didn't ask. I just held her.
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"Roger! He fucked me and you don't fucking care do you? DO YOU?" Was that what she was hiding from me? Was she cheating on me?
"Who fucked you? Did you fucking cheat on me? What the fuck?" It seemed so surreal. My mother had finally been caught cheating on my father, and Mo was cheating on me too? I came over to her house distraught, looking for a little comfort, only to find her passed out and bleeding on the floor in her bathroom. Our relationship had been really messed up for the past six months, ever since our one-year anniversary, six months ago. It was April now, but it was freezing outside, and raining. I had made sure that her cuts stopped bleeding, made sure she would be okay, and stayed there with her, concerned, wanting to know what was going on. She had been like this since that night—distant, hiding something. I never would've imagined that she was cheating on me, though, of all of the things that she could've possibly been hiding. I didn't know what to expect though, quite frankly, I had no idea. She wasn't on drugs again or drinking, because those would be too physically obvious to me, knowing as much as I did from experience with my parents, and having known her so intimately. Maybe I'm hurting her. I don't know how, but I wouldn't be able to live with myself if she killed herself. Even if it wasn't my fault. But eventually I knew that she would leave me. If I stay it will make things worse. I can't take her continuing to hurt herself. It's hurting me. I already knew that I was leaving, I'd packed a duffle bag of clothes, and obviously my guitar, and I'd hidden them in the bushes beside my house. I was coming to say goodbye to her, though of course I wouldn't tell her where I was going, I wasn't even sure if I would tell her that I was going, but I just needed to see her again. I just couldn't live with my parents anymore. I didn't even know if I believed that she would cheat on me, but it was obvious that she had sex, and it obviously hadn't been with me. She said it was rape. You should believe her. I think I did believe her. It would be far less painful if we had a fight before I left, maybe that's why I did it.
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The previous day had been a blur. I had a fight with Maureen about leaving the party, because she said she had a headache, and that she wanted to leave. I didn't really want to stay at the party, but I had just about enough of Maureen's mood swings for the day. I was getting drunk. Maybe it wasn't so much that I didn't want to take her home as that I didn't want to have to go home, and I wasn't really in the mood to try to decode her, since I was failing miserably at finding out what was bothering her. It was too depressing. When I was finally ready to take her home, I couldn't find her anywhere, and naturally thought that she had just gotten fed up and left. I was going to go check on her, but as I walked past my house I heard screaming and things breaking. I had to know what was going on in there. So I walked into the middle of the battle zone, but not expecting what I saw—my mother, naked with another man, on the sofa. My father was screaming at them, breaking alcohol bottles and china against the wall, the couch, throwing things even at the two naked forms on the couch. Ew. I snuck into my room quietly. The next morning when I awoke, they were still screaming at each other, probably more drunk then the previous night. I couldn't stand to stay there. I packed my things quickly, and then climbed out of my own window. I sat there behind the bushes next to my house for what felt like hours. I formulated a plan—I would run away to NYC. I would tell Collins to watch Maureen, that I had to get away for a while, that I was going to travel. Collins wouldn't ask too many questions—he knew how fucked up my family was. He couldn't stop me from dropping out of school, either—I was failing all of my classes and would have had to make them up in summer school anyway. Unlike Maureen. She's brilliant. I couldn't tell her where I was going—she might want to come. I can't be responsible for her wasting her potential. Collins would understand that too.
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After I went to see her, I went to Collins. I told him that I just had to get away, and I didn't know when I was coming back, but I needed him to watch Maureen. He stared at me blankly, not knowing what to make of the situation. He nodded, seeing that I was distraught, that I wasn't going to tell him anything else, and that my mind was made. Maybe the problem with going out with Maureen is that we're both so stubborn. That's why we keep secrets so well. Collins wished me luck, though he did look less than thrilled that I was leaving. He probably thinks that I am a coward. I've gotta go.
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"Maureen? What the fuck?" Why was she here? Did she find me? Did Collins tell her I was here? What the fuck? No, he hadn't told her that I was here. He told me that he didn't know where she was living, but he had contact with her.
"Nice seeing you, too." Her tone was phony, probably masking hurt, but I couldn't stand the forced niceties. Why isn't she pissed? She should hate me. I saw that she was still wearing the ring… "I'll never take it off…" I shouldn't have been surprised. She was confused. Angry, but confused. I hadn't told her anything. And I still loved her, didn't I? Except now I have April…
"You bitch." I couldn't believe the words came out of my mouth. I wanted to apologize for not believing she was raped, I wanted to explain the whole thing. Calling her names was not going to help my case any. I wanted to tell her that I still cared about her, but instead I said the opposite. I was more uncomfortable seeing her there than I had ever been in my life. She continued her overly sweet attitude after Collins extended an offer for her to join us. I told her to go to Hell. She started crying—I hated it when I made her cry. I melted. I started to apologize, but then shot back something about how she cheated on me, and she looked wounded. I knew that it was a lie—she had been raped. I called her a drama queen. Her eyes narrowed, and it looked like she was about to tell me something that I didn't know, something she had been waiting to spit out at me for a while, but she changed her mind and broke down, crying, as if she couldn't bring herself to say what she really wanted to, and just cried about how I abandoned her, I broke her heart…and I felt worthless. There was something else she wasn't telling me when left, because it wasn't the cheating…
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"Roger? Honey?" It was Mimi. I had my eyes closed, not wanted to start crying or something, just wanting her to think that I had fallen asleep as she continued to clean.
"Yeah. I'm here."
"What were you thinking about? You were always really bad at faking sleep."
"Oh, um…the past."
"Was it April again?" She sounded concerned. I lied,
"Yeah. I don't think I'll ever really get over her…"
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"Roger! STOP IT! What the fuck is wrong with you?" I couldn't help but shoot up. I didn't even really like, and I had sworn to myself (and probably Mo at some point or another) that I would never be like my parents; I had even made Mo stop. I knew it was bad for me. I didn't want to lose April like I had Maureen. I didn't see how else to hold on. April, in and of herself, was an addiction, and when she told me to do something, I did it. Even these fucking drugs. They made me feel closer to her. Maureen didn't want to lose me. What right does she have? She wanted to lose herself. I should be allowed to do the same…But that wasn't right—I hadn't let her do it. Maybe I should have…no, Davis, you love her. Killing people is bad. Mo isn't bad…Mo is bad. Is Mo bad? No you don't love Mo, you fool…you love April. You love April? April is Mo. Mo is April…damn drugs. I can't think straight…need more. I need another hit.
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"Oh my God! ROGER! ROGER!" The panic in her voice scared me—did something happen to her? Is she hurt? "Oh April, baby, oh my God". Oh shit…it's April. God Rog, stop thinking about Mau—
"Oh my God…APRIL COME BACK! Maureen…help…Mo? Don't leave me…she left me! Why did she leave? WHY?" How could I have been so stupid? And why can't I stop thinking about Maureen? She's with Mark…