Note: So many, many thanks to all who reviewed the last few chapters. These next couple of chapters are going to shift attention back towards Maureen and deal with the eating disorder we saw briefly earlier in the story. Hope you guys like. And as always, it belongs to Jonathan Larson. And if you or someone you know has an eating disorder, please seek professional help.


Collins had to go back to work the next week. He made Maureen promise they'd call if things got out of hand. Now only in the psychological withdrawals, Roger brooded and sulked around the loft.

"Roger, I'm goin' out to film. You wanna come with?"

Roger glared at him and shook his head.

"Fine. Baby, you wanna come?"

Maureen looked up from her notebook. "Huh? Oh, no, I'll stay here."

"You, um, you sure?"

"Positive."

After Mark left, Roger sat staring at Maureen until she set the notebook down. She sighed and tossed it onto the table. "Fine, Roger. What?"

"What the fuck is your problem?"

"Excuse me?"

"What the fuck is your problem? You're treating Mark like shit."

"Shut up, Roger. You don't know."

"Oh give me a break. You're being a complete bitch. You wanna give me the silent treatment, fine. I don't care. But he's your boyfriend. He deserves more than that."

Maureen stood up and went to the bedroom she shared with Mark. When the door was closed, Roger paced the loft, his mind racing. He wanted to run—wanted to walk out the door and go straight to the park. Roger wasn't sure what stopped him, but he knew if he left he wouldn't come back.

The desire for a hit was slowly replaced with guilt. He hadn't meant to upset her like that. Why the hell did he have to say such asshole things sometimes? She was his friend. Roger knew he shouldn't say things like that. He knew he didn't have the full story. Maureen wouldn't just be a bitch to Mark for no reason.

The door to the bedroom opened and Maureen came out. Her eyes were red. She grabbed her notebook off the coffee table and went to the fire escape. Roger watched her, his guilt magnifying as she scribbled furiously in the notebook. A few minutes later, Maureen closed the notebook and came in.

He wanted to say something but knew nothing would be right. She went to the bathroom and shut the door, locking it behind her. Roger frowned. Something wasn't right. He went to the door, surprised to hear water running. What the hell? Roger pressed an ear to the door. A retching sound drifted through the door. He stepped back into the living room and waited for her to come out.

"You okay?"

"I'm fine."

"It sounded like you were getting sick."

"I'm fine."

Roger's mind flashed back to high school.


"Mo? You okay?" he asked, knocking on the door.

There was no answer. Roger knocked again. "Maureen?"

He heard the clear sound of someone throwing up. Roger hated when people got sick. He wasn't good at the whole tending-to-someone-else thing. Taking a deep breath, Roger opened the door.

Maureen sat hunched over the toilet, vomiting. Roger dropped to his knees behind her and held the hair she'd been holding back herself. He rubbed her back with his free hand.

"It's okay, it's okay," he whispered.

When she'd stopped and leaned back against him, Roger let go of her hair and slipped his hand around to feel her forehead. Cool.

"Mo? You okay, baby?" Roger helped her stand up.

"Fine. I'm fine. Just…food poisoning or something."

"Mo, you didn't eat lunch. What'd you get food poisoning from?"

She shrugged him off as they reached her bedroom. "I'm fine."


"Maureen, you're not fine. What—"

"Yes, Roger, I am. I'm fine."

"Maureen, I know you—"

She slammed the door of the bedroom. Roger stood staring at it, wondering what the hell was going on. He knocked softly. When she didn't answer, Roger went in. Maureen lay on the bed she and Mark shared, her face buried in the pillows.

"Go away," she mumbled as soon as he sat down.

"No."

"Roger, I'm seriously not in the mood for your shit right now. Just leave me alone. Please."

"I'm sorry for what I said. I just…Mark's my best friend, you know? I don't want to see him get hurt."

"And that's all that a selfish, dramatic, slutty little bitch could do to him right?" she asked as she rolled over and sat up.

Roger shook his head. "That's not what I said. I didn't—"

"That's exactly what you said."

Maureen bolted from the loft before Roger could stop her.