Rent Continued
Collins clutched the small blade as though it were a lifeline. He was standing in a dingy bathroom, across the street from the Life Café, where his five friends were laughing and carrying on. He had told them he was going to the bathroom, which he did. He snuck out the back entrance and went across the street to the small shop, ran to the bathroom, and locked the door.
He couldn't stand it anymore. That night, they had decided to go out and have a good time, to celebrate Mimi's recovery. But as they all sat around the small table, his thoughts carried him away. Roger and Mimi were holding hands, as usual. Maureen's head was resting on Joanne's shoulder. Even Mark had a girlfriend now, and she was sitting across his lap, giggling stupidly. Mark was beaming.
Was it just one year ago they had been doing exactly this, plus a smiling Angel on Collins' lap, minus Mark's airhead Miranda?
He shook his head and swallowed. Ever since last Halloween, Collins had made it a habit that, whenever Angel floated into his mind, he blocked him out. But that didn't work anymore. As hard as he tried, he couldn't get over the love of his life, and he couldn't suppress the jealousy and bitterness he felt towards his friends.
This was it. The subject of Angel hadn't come up in two weeks, not since Christmas Eve. If he wasn't over him now, he never would be. He shuddered and felt the cold steel of the knife against his wrist…
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"Hey, is Collins not back yet?" said Joanne, looking concerned. A napping Maureen was resting on her shoulder.
The six friends looked around the café. "I'll go get him, he's probably not feeling well," said Roger, breaking away from Mimi.
"Yeah, he's been looking sick all night," nodded Mark. He stared down at Collins' vacant plate. "Probably this goddamn tofu dog he got, I had one last month and I was up all night…"
But Roger wasn't listening. He may have been the only one to notice, but Collins hadn't just been looking sick tonight. He'd been looking sick every night for a long time.
As he entered the restroom of the café, his mind wondered. This was exactly how it had started with Angel. A few coughs here and there, and pretty soon he couldn't get out of bed without breaking a sweat.
Shut up, it's not like that, Roger thought to himself. He searched the stalls and found no one. "Collins?" he called hopefully. No answer.
He walked out of the bathroom and looked down the tiny hallway. He froze. The back door was open, and there were footprints in the snow that covered the alley behind the café, leading towards the street.
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Benjamin Coffin III knocked on Mark and Roger's apartment door.
"Guys, it's Benny. Come on, guys, open up!" No response from the other end of the door.
He sighed and trudged away.
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Collins heard pounding on the bathroom door just as he was about to move his hand. He jumped and dropped the blade. It landed in the toilet with a splash.
"You been in there long time!" shouted the Middle Eastern owner of the shop. "Come out now!"
"C-coming!" he stammered, fishing for the knife in the toilet. He stuffed it in his pocket and opened the door. "Sorry," he said to the owner, and hurried out the front door.
He looked across the street to the café. He couldn't go back. It had been to long, they must be looking for him right now. And the back door was probably locked. He would have to go in the front and explain to them where he had been. And he was too frazzled to think right now. He bolted up the avenue in the direction of Mark and Roger's apartment.