Disclaimer: I own not a notion. I rent.
Mark lay prone on his bed, his eyes open, staring at the ceiling. Numerous cracks traverse their way along the white plaster and very large water stains are within his range of sight, but he sees neither. His mind is elsewhere. For the better part of the day he's been laying there remembering the past year. It had been the single hardest year of his life, but he knew that Roger had had it even worse. So much had happened. People came in and out of their lives, loved ones were lost and friends changed. Roger, who Mark had always thought he knew better than he knew himself, had become a different person. Roger made it through the year anniversary of April's death, with tears and sadness and depression. Then again, they had all cried and mourned their lost friend.
Memories of the past year flash by like scenes in a film and in many ways, Mark wishes that it were fiction. That none of it had happened. But it did, and he remembers all too clearly the details.
Close up on Roger, trembling in my arms. He sobs so hard he can barely breathe.
"I'm going to die Mark. Just like she did."
"No, you're not Roger. I won't let you. April chose what she did. You're not going to do that."
"What if I do? Mark, I can't do this anymore."
"Yes, you can. You've been here before Roger. You'll make it."
"So what! I make it through withdrawal and then I die from AIDS? I don't want this!"
"Who said that you were going to die from AIDS?" Roger sits up, pulling away from me. He stares at me as if I'm an idiot.
"What? Everyone who has AIDS dies, Mark!"
"First off, you're HIV positive. That's not AIDS. Second, if you would just take your AZT then you could prevent it from turning into AIDS. Medicine is advancing. Look at Collins. He's able to live a normal life and he's had it much longer than you. Stop acting like this is it, Rog. I don't want to lose you." Tears spring to my eyes. This is the first time I've said it out loud. I know that Roger is going to die before me. I haven't come to terms with it; how does anyone? But I'm starting. I'm reminded of the night we had our fight about his using. I remember thinking that heroin would take him away from us. How prophetic could I have been? He won't die from an overdose, he'll die from a virus on a dirty needle.
"I don't want to leave you either. I don't know what I'd do without you Mark." Roger begins to sob again. I hold him, rocking him back and forth like I've done since everything happened.
"So don't give up and leave. Stay here and freeze and starve and struggle with me. We came here for a reason Rog. We came to make our dreams come true. Don't lose sight of that."
"I can't help it. Everything's shit Mark. Everything! How can I think about dreams?"
"As quickly as everything went to shit, that's how quickly it can change again. Just don't give up. Besides dreams are all we have. And they're free."
He nods into my shoulder and he looks at me with a faint smile on his face. Later on that night he emerges from his room. He takes his AZT, eats a full meal and then takes a long overdue shower. He sits with me and Maureen on the couch. About an hour later Collins calls. We screen and then I pick up the phone. Roger speaks to him for the first time since he left two months ago for MIT. Days go by and every day is an improvement. Except for the music. He refuses to pick up his guitar. The loft is quiet, too quiet. I mentioned Musetta's Waltz to him earlier this morning. He just shook his head and disappeared into his room. I'd give anything to hear it one more time. He won't leave the loft except to sit on the roof of our building. He spends his days staring out the window, deep in melancholy thought. He does that a lot now; thinking. Things change so fast…so fast…
Another memory flashes by:
Benny. He's married now. To Alison Grey of the Westport Greys. Has been for the past four months. They married quickly and now he's gone. He proposed the day before April killed herself. I can't help but think him a sell-out. He came back to the loft the day after April's suicide. I said some pretty harsh things, we all did.
"What the hell happened?"
"April's dead." Maureen says quietly. Tears brim her brown eyes.
"How?"
"She killed herself." I answer just as quietly. Roger's in his room and I don't want him to hear. He's upset enough as it is.
"How?"
"Jesus, Benny. Does it matter? She's dead. She slit her wrists in the bathroom, okay? Is that what you wanted?" Maureen's voice rises and I place a hand on her arm.
"I'm sorry…I just…I'm shocked. How's Roger?"
"He's bad. Look, she left a note saying that they had AIDS. He tested positive for HIV. He's not…he's in bad shape man." Collins stares at the floor. He's been taking April's death hard, harder than Maureen and I.
"Jesus" Benny mutters, "Is there anything that I can do? I mean, I know I'm moving out and everything, but if you need anything. I want…I want to help out."
Something snaps in my brain. "Yeah, just leave. Why not? You're never here anyway. It's not like we could have used your help with April and Roger when they were trying to quit using. Why care now Benny? Why should you give a damn about anyone but yourself?"
"Mark." Maureen's hand grabs mine and Collins has his hand on my shoulder.
"What the hell Mark? I'm trying to help. I want to help. I'm sorry about everything. Roger and April were my friends too."
"You don't know what friends are Benny. You have no idea." I push away from everyone and stand on the fire escape. Bits of an argument reach my ears through the open window. Maureen calls him a bastard and Collins voices my thoughts about him being a sell-out. I shiver as the cold winter wind blows through my thin sweater. The loft door slams shut.
"Mark, baby. Come in, please. It's cold out there."
"Mark,
get your skinny ass in here before you catch pneumonia." I sigh and
enter the loft, closing the window behind me. Collins and Maureen.
Two of my three constants.
A memory of a hot July night springs into his memory. Collins had returned for his break, but was leaving the next day. Mark had found him sitting on the fire escape smoking a joint.
"Hey Collins."
"Hey Mark."
"You look deep in thought. If I had a penny, I would give it to you. However, I'm very very very broke."
Collins laughs; his deep rich laugh that starts in his belly and works its way up his throat. I can't help but smile.
"You know, as much as I hate this Bohemian hell sometimes, I miss it. MIT is far from this life, man. It's rich and warm and screams welcome. Yet our loft is poor and cold and bare, but it still manages to have a welcoming air to it. MIT ain't home. This is home and it always will be. I can't fit in there, not that I'd want to, but I just can't get it to feel like home. New York City is truly where my heart is. How fucked up is that? I'd give anything to have the money these spoiled sons-of-bitches at MIT have, but I wouldn't move a muscle. Just stay here in this loft with you and Roger and Maureen. Granted we'd be able to eat and afford heat." Collins chuckles.
"I'd rather have you here too. This doesn't feel like home when you're not here. It feels empty." He puts an arm around my shoulder and pulls me to him.
"Boy, I'm always here. If you want, I'll smoke more weed in the loft. That way the smell will always linger and you'll think of me."
"It is possible for you to smoke more weed? I mean, really. Is it a viable possibility?"
"You never know, but I can sure as hell try." His eyes get serious, "I never got the chance to apologize for the way I acted after April's death. I wasn't there when you needed me and I'm sorry. I feel like I abandoned you and Maureen."
"Collins, you got a job! You didn't abandon us. You're working and making money and living life and that's all I care about. I'm proud of you. I remember when you told me…when you told me about that night and what happened before she…I wouldn't want to be here either! Hell, I don't want to be here now. But I am. I'm fine, Maureen's fine, Roger's getting better each day. We're all getting better. We're okay."
"Mark, man. I love you boy." Collins envelopes me in a big bear hug. I had never realized just how much guilt and pain he was holding onto.
"I love you too. But can we lose the boy thing? I am 24 years old."
"Hell no. Until you stop looking like you're twelve, you're boy."
"Damnit."
"Don't you have a date with a lovely lady tonight?"
"Yes. Why are you leering?"
"Marky's
getting laid. Marky's getting laid." Collins says in a sing-song
voice that makes me want to punch him. Instead I grin, wickedly.
"Marky's been getting laid for some time now. Maybe you should try it."
"Oh! Damn boy! I am impressed! When did you start back-talking?"
"When you started calling me Marky."
Collins laughs again and shakes his head, "Damn…well, have fun tonight. And maybe I'll find some fun myself. Go get dressed before Maureen is finished. There'll be no end to the bitching if you take longer than she does to get ready."
"That's
not a
viable possibility either." I pat Collins on the back and go put on
a decent-looking outfit that won't shame my beautiful girlfriend.
Collins left in the morning for MIT. Then, Maureen left. Maureen...
Mark sighs and closes his eyes. Maureen. He could write script after script about her. The perfect character; his muse. Yet every time he sits down to write, the paper is left blank. There's too much to Maureen to capture in words or on film. Things had changed so quickly between them.
"Mark, baby. Pookie."
Pookie. I hated that nickname. She never used it before she started cheating. I'm not naïve. I knew she was screwing other guys. I could smell the cologne on her clothes when she'd come home from an "audition" and wrap her arms around my neck. I don't know why I put up with it. I guess I was scared to be alone with my thoughts and memories of April's body and Roger's utter and complete despair. I needed light in my life and I was scared to let that light go out. We'd been together for just about a year. The cheating began when I was spending my days with Roger, helping him through his withdrawal. I admit it; I didn't pay enough attention to her. I take responsibility for the eventual demise of our relationship. But getting the shit beat out of you by your best friend, only to have him minutes later collapse in your arms in tears does keep a person pretty preoccupied.
We were at dinner. Our first date since April's death.
"Pookie, there's something I need to tell you." No preamble. Typical tact-less Maureen.
"Okay."
"There's someone else. I should have told you before now, but I was scared. I wanted to make sure it was what I wanted."
"Uh-huh…"
"Her name's Joanne. She's a lawyer and I think she's the one." She smiles nervously.
"Right. Let…let me just process this for a second. You're in love with a woman, Joanne who's a lawyer and you think she's 'the one' for you. You've been cheating on me for…my guess is quite a few months and I suppose you want me to be happy because this is what you want?"
"Well…yeah. I mean, you want me to be happy don't you Pookie?"
"Don't call me Pookie. You dump me for a woman and you want me to be happy for you? I'm still stuck on the fact that you dumped me for a woman. I mean, I didn't even see this coming. You never even wore flannel shirts."
"Don't stereotype Mark. It's who I am."
"Are you sure this isn't a phase? Like girls and horses?"
"Yes! Come on Poo…Mark."
"I need to leave now. I'm going to go home and lie down and contemplate this. I'll let you know when this has sunk in." I'm almost out the door when she calls out to me.
"I'll get my stuff tomorrow! I'm moving in with Joanne."
Once I'm home, I lock myself in my room and lie there thinking. Later on I talk briefly to Roger about it and he consoles me the only way Roger can; bluntly.
"Life sucks. Love sucks. Yet we keep on living and loving. She's not worth your time anyway. You deserve someone who will actually love you."
"Yeah, but I'm just…I don't know."
"You'll get over it. Then you'll miss the sex. That'll take longer to get over, but you'll make it through."
"Thanks Rog."
But he was right. We do just keep on living and loving no matter how much we get hurt. Then there are those, like April, who decide that it's too much and they stop living and loving. Does that make them cowards? I don't think so. April was weak. If only she would have felt comfortable enough to talk to one of us. Collins reached out and she pushed him away. Is it her fault? I don't know. I'm a strong believer in fate. It was April's fate to die that day. Fate took Collins to MIT, tore Maureen and I apart and brought Roger and I closer together. Greater wheels are turning in this world and for some reason I feel something big is going to happen soon, very soon. Something life changing. Call it instinct, call it bullshit. I don't care. I just have this feeling that things are going to change. For the better.
The sound of a guitar being tuned snaps Mark out of his memories. He sits up quickly and reaches for his glasses. It's Roger in the loft. He's playing his guitar. Moving quickly Mark grabs his camera off a crate. It hasn't been used in months. There hasn't been anything to film. Something big.
Stepping into the main part of the loft, Mark turns the camera on focusing in on his best friend. Roger's bent over his guitar, a frown on his face. It appears as if it won't tune. Something big…Maybe I should charge for my prophetic-like services…Only one thing to do now. Film.
"December 24th, 9:00pm Eastern Standard Time…"
Well, that's that. The rest is found in musical history. Thank you to all the wonderful reviewers. I appreciated all your great feedback. It's complete. I'm currently working on a story entitled "An Afternoon With Collins", so we'll see how that works out. I'm glad that I was able to finish this within 2006 and I hope that the last chapter is enjoyed by all who read it. Once again, THANK YOU for reading.
