Mark sat down in the chair next to Roger's bed. Collins sat in the rocking chair while Maureen leaned against the windowsill. Benny had left again, insisting Roger wouldn't want to see him and that he had to get home to Allison. Roger's legs still trembled, his hands shaking. He sat up, clutching his stomach.
"I'm gonna be sick," he mumbled.
Maureen leapt up and grabbed a basin the nurse had left. She held it in front of him with one hand and wrapped the other arm around his back. When he was done, she went to the garbage can and tossed it in.
"I'll go get another basin," Mark said.
It was day three of the withdrawals; they all knew by now that it was a matter of time before he threw up again. Better to be prepared. Maureen grabbed a towel and wiped at Roger's sweaty face. Tears clouded his eyes.
"Mo…."
"Shh…I'm here, baby. It's okay. You're going to be okay. You'll be fine," she whispered, stroking his hair.
Collins rocked quietly in the chair, watching them. He'd never been good with sick people. Thank God Maureen had some maternal instinct when it came to her friends.
Mark returned a minute later with a fresh basin and set it on the nightstand. Roger flopped back against the pillows, groaning.
"You okay, man?" Mark asked.
Roger nodded slowly.
"Good. We need to talk."
Maureen held Roger's hand, hating that he was trembling from head to toe.
"About what?" he asked, looking to Maureen.
"About the drugs," she said.
"I—"
"We think you need rehab," Mark said.
Roger glared at him. "I don't need rehab. I'm fine. I just—I just need to get out of here so—"
"Rog, Mark was trying to be nice. Let me make it clearer for you. You need rehab."
"Fuck you, Collins. Rehab is for junkies."
"We can't afford a rehab stay, but that's fine. We'll help you through the withdrawals at the loft."
"What the hell do you know, Collins?"
They stared at him. He glared at all of them, shaking his head. "I'm fine! I don't need help. I need to go home!"
"Rog….you need to let us help you," Maureen whispered.
"Maureen, I'm not an addict," his eyes filled with tears as he said the last word.
Maureen held up the hand she was holding. "Baby, look how bad you're shaking. This…all that you're going through right now….you don't go through withdrawals for no reason. You need to get help."
"I'm not an addict." His voice was firmer, but his eyes looked scared.
"Roger, please. You're one of my best friends. Please. You need help."
When Roger didn't answer, she stood up and went to Collins. Mark sat on the bed and waited for Roger to look at him.
"Roger, you're done doing this. We're not letting you stay in the loft unless you're clean."
"You're kicking me out?"
"No. I'm making you choose. Us or the drugs."
"Mark, please….I-I can't do this…"
"Yes, yes you can. I know you can, Rog. And we'll all help you. You can beat this. I know you can."
Roger's tears spilled out. "Can you ask them to leave a minute?" he whispered.
Mark nodded and turned to Maureen and Collins. "Guys? Think we could get a minute?"
Collins put his hands on Maureen's shoulders and steered her out of the room and towards the waiting room. Mark looked at Roger.
"HIV," Roger whispered.
"What?"
"April left a note…when she—when….it-it said I have AIDS."
Mark's eyes filled with tears. "No, no, Rog. She might've been wrong. Even if she had it, it doesn't mean you do. You're—"
"They did a test…I told the doctor about the note and he did a test. I—I didn't tell you because…because I didn't want her to be right…."
"Did he get the results yet?" Mark knew the answer before he'd finished asking the question.
Roger's tears turned to sobs. "I'm HIV-positive."
Mark's arms went around Roger, hugging him tightly. Both of them cried. It was a death sentence. Just a matter of time before Roger would be gone.
"You'll beat this. You'll be okay." Mark didn't believe the words he whispered to his best friend, but felt he had to make one of them believe it.
"Mark…when—when people find out…I—they-they're gonna hate me…nobody's going to…"
"I'll still be there," Mark said, pulling away. He stared at Roger, looking him straight in the eye. "Brothers for life, remember? I'm not going anywhere."
"What about everyone else?"
"Everyone else can either deal with it or go fuck themselves."
Roger gave a small smile. "Am I rubbin' off on you after all these years, Cohen?"
"Don't flatter yourself, Davis."
"Mark, what if I can't do this? I…ever since….I just…I don't think I can do this."
"Doesn't matter. I know you can."
"Just…um…when you…don't tell anybody, okay?"
Mark nodded. "You have to tell Maureen and Collins."
"I will…I just give me some time, okay?"
Mark frowned. "Can I ask you something?"
"Sure."
"Why didn't you tell us there was a note?"
"I didn't know there was. I didn't find it until…after you guys left. I was looking…I was looking for any of our stash that was left…There was nothing left in the drawer but she left the note there. She knew I'd look there."
"Is that why you took all the pills?"
Roger's eyes filled with tears. "Mark, I don't want to die."
Mark didn't know what to say, so he put his arms around Roger and hugged him until all their tears were gone.
