Note: Thanks once again for so many positive reviews...I know Roger's being a jerk and an idiot, but I think this is the most realistic way to portray it. We know from the play and movie that Roger went through half a year of withdrawals so it couldn't be over so quickly without relapsing. Anyway, little warning--Roger's quite a jerk in the next couple chapters, but bear with me. We all know he won't stay like this.
Maureen and Collins found Mark staring at something on the table. Collins glanced around.
"Roger? Where'd you go?"
"He's not here," Mark mumbled.
"What?"
"He's not here."
"What do you mean 'he's not here'? What happened?" Maureen asked.
"He left."
"What the hell happened? We were gone, like, five minutes!"
"I don't know, Maureen. He apologized for last night and I accepted his apology but told him I wasn't over it yet."
"Why would you do that?"
"Because he asked. Anyway, I got in the shower after and when I came out, it was all quiet. So I stepped out and he was gone and this note was here."
Collins came out of Roger's room. "Stuff's all still here."
"Note says he'll be back," Maureen said.
Mark went to his room to change while Maureen paced.
"I'm sure he'll be fine."
"Yeah, well, you were also sure that nothing would happen," she snapped.
Collins nodded. "Suppose I deserved that."
"Yeah, I suppose so."
Maureen's glare flicked back to Mark as he emerged fully dressed from his room. "Why would you tell him you're still mad?"
"Because I am! I didn't know I was supposed to walk on fucking eggshells around him," Mark said.
Maureen rolled her eyes and stood up. "Fine. I'm going to look for him."
"Maybe we should wait here," Collins said.
"Fine. You guys wait here. I'm going to look for him."
Roger stormed down the streets. Mark wanted to be pissed, fine. Let him be pissed. Let him be pissed and let Maureen get all worked up and let Collins play the hero again. If that's how they wanted it, fine.
Roger found The Man in the park and handed over the fifty he still had from Maureen's purse. The Man slipped him a baggie. Roger found an alleyway that seemed dark enough. He glanced around, making sure no one was in sight. He snorted the whole bag, then sank to the ground. Roger sat in the alleyway, hating himself and what he'd done, and cried.
"Roger! Roger! Where are you?" Maureen shouted.
Mark rolled his eyes. "Maureen, we're in the middle of New York City. You realize how many Rogers there probably are?"
"I have to do something. Besides, he's the only Roger who'll know my voice."
Mark sighed. "We've been walking the streets for three hours, honey. Let's go back. The note said he'd be back. Maybe he's already home."
"Fine."
Mark reached for her hand, but Maureen crossed her arms over her chest. "Not now, Pookie."
Maureen glanced up and down each alleyway they passed. At one, she stopped. Mark opened his mouth to speak, but Maureen put a finger to her lips. She stared down the alleyway, squinting and took off down the alleyway.
"Maureen! Maureen, what the hell—"
Mark stopped when she knelt in front of the figure. He knew without asking that it was Roger. The leather jacket, the wavy blonde hair. Mark knew it was Roger. Kneeling down, Mark felt his anger dissipate.
"Roger? Rog, you okay, man?"
Roger's head rolled up to look at Mark. He grinned. "Hey, Marky."
Maureen frowned and noticed the bag lying at his feet. "You bastard," she mumbled.
Mark felt himself shutting down. He saw the bag and went numb, letting his body go on autopilot. "Come on, Roger."
"Where we goin', Marky?"
"Home."
Mark helped him to his feet. "Come on, big guy."
Maureen stayed on the ground. Mark slid Roger's arm over his shoulders. "You coming, Mo?"
"Yeah…yeah, I'm coming."
Mark lugged Roger along, glad that his roommate had at least chosen a nearby alleyway.
