Rating: R

Warnings: Mild language, mentions of violence, alcoholism

Song Featured: "Santa Fe" from the movie Newsies

Disclaimer: RENT is the sole property of Jonathan Larson. Also, the song "Santa Fe" is the sole property of its writers.

"Thanks again for dinner, Mrs. Cohen," Roger said.

"Oh, you're quite welcome, dear. You come over anytime you like."

"It was nice meeting you, Roger," Mr. Cohen said from the couch.

"Nice meeting you too, sir."

"I'll see you at school tomorrow," Mark said.

Roger nodded and waved goodbye to Cindy before slipping out into the night air.

So that's what they call a family

Mother, daughter, father, son

Guess everything you heard about is true

As he strolled along the darkened street, Roger wondered what it would've been like if his dad was still around. Or if his mom didn't drink. What would it be like if he had someone to answer to? Someone to wait up for him. Not as much freedom, that's for sure.

So you ain't got any family

Well who says you needed one?

Ain't ya glad nobody's waitin' up for you?

He let his mind wander as his feet traveled along the sidewalks through town. His dad always used to talk about Santa Fe. Maybe he'd go there one day. See all the landmarks Dad told him about.

When I dream on my own

I'm alone but I ain't lonely

Yeah, Santa Fe…He'd go there. Maybe Aunt Linda still lived there. He was pretty sure that's where Dad said she and her husband moved to. Roger knew most kids hated walking so far in the dark alone. The Cohens had even offered to drive him home. He didn't want them to see where he lived. Worse than that, he didn't want them to meet his mother.

For a dreamer, night's the only time of day

When the city's finally sleeping

All my thoughts begin to stray

And I'm on a train that's bound for Santa Fe

Santa Fe. Roger kept his mind on Santa Fe. He'd go there. Find Aunt Linda. Even if Aunt Linda wasn't there, it had to be better than here. No drunken mother. No broken down house. No dead father. Just the sunshine and the clean open air.

And I'm free, like the wind, like I'm gonna live forever

It's a feeling time can never take away

Roger strolled past the drug dealers and beggars. He pulled a couple bills from his pocket and handed them to the bum on the corner.

"Here ya go, Charlie."

"Thanks, kiddo."

Charlie was the only one he ever gave money to. Not that Roger didn't want to help the rest of them, but he had to save the bit of money he got working the grocery store.

All I need's a few more dollars and I'm outta here to stay

Dreams come true, yes they do…in Santa Fe

He hurried up the stairs to his apartment. The steps creaked under his feet, each groan echoing in the stairwell. He fished his key from his pocket and opened the door.

"Ma? I'm home."

He frowned to see her slumped on the couch, a near-empty wine bottle on the coffee table. Each day Roger returned home unsure of what to expect. Each day that he saw her like that, he wondered if she'd still be like that if Dad hadn't died.

Where does it say you gotta live and die here?

Where does it say a guy can't catch a break?

Roger tapped her arm. "Ma, how 'bout you go to bed?"

She sat upright and glared at him. "Where the hell were you?"

"I had dinner at Mark's. I told—"

He ducked to avoid her slap. Turning and slipping into his room, Roger jammed a change of clothes into his backpack. He wasn't staying here. He hated when she got this drunk. He'd call Uncle Ed from the payphone.

Why should you only take what you're given?

Why should you spend your whole life livin' trapped where there ain't no future?

Roger didn't bother telling his mother he was leaving. She was still screaming and cursing at him. He tried to dodge another slap but for once her reflexes were quicker. Roger stumbled back from her backhanding him. He shook his head as he stood up.

Even at seventeen

Breakin' your back for someone else's sake

He ducked out of the apartment and jogged to the payphone. He slipped a quarter into the slot. The phone rang twice.

"Hello?"

"Aunt Nancy?"

"Roger, honey, are you okay?" They both knew he only called at night when there was trouble.

"Mom's…she's, um, she's real upset again." Upset had become his codeword for drunk. It was easier to say it.

"Did she hurt you?"

"She just, um, she just smacked me and yelled a lot. I just…I thought maybe, um…"

"Are you at the payphone?"

It made him sick that the routine had played out enough for her to know what payphone he called from.

"Yeah."

"We're on our way, honey. You just stay put, okay?"

"Thanks."

If the life don't seem to suit ya

How 'bout a change of scene?

Far from the lousy headlines and the deadlines in between

Roger waited in the phone booth, pretending to still be on the phone. Easier than avoiding the dealers and the muggers. He'd found people left him alone if they thought he was on the phone with somebody.

Ten minutes later, a pair of headlights stopped beside the phone booth. Roger stepped out and gave a weak smile to see Uncle Ed in the driver's seat. Aunt Nancy was in the passenger seat. Roger opened the back door and slid in. He was a little surprised to see his cousin scrunched in the backseat.

"Hey, Maureen."

She smiled and patted his hand. "Hey, Rog. How you feeling?"

"I, um, I'm okay."

Aunt Nancy turned to face him. "Where'd she hit you? Are you okay?"

Roger pointed at his cheek. He knew they couldn't see in the darkness anything besides where he was pointing. He could feel the bruise already forming. Uncle Ed's eyes watched him in the rearview mirror.

"Thanks for coming to get me," he mumbled.

Aunt Nancy reached back and squeezed his hand. "You know you're always welcome in our house, Roger."

He tried to smile and nodded. As they drove along, he stared out the window.

Santa Fe, are you there?

Do you swear you won't forget me?

At the Johnson house, Roger let himself be steered towards the guest bedroom. They called it the guest bedroom but in all actuality, it was his room. His clothes, his books, his belongings. Roger tossed his bag on the floor. He wished this was his home. Aunt Nancy had tried to talk her sister into signing over custody years ago, but his mom wouldn't hear it.

If I found you, would you let me come and stay?

He'd been spending, on average, a couple nights a week at the Johnson house for the last four years. That's how long Mom had been real bad. He hated when she drank. Hated it more when she got drunk enough to hit him, which seemed to happen more often as he got older. At least now, though, he was bigger than her and could fend her off.

He still had the scar from when he was fourteen. She'd thrown a glass at the wall and then shoved Roger. The glass had cut him across the back. That was when Aunt Nancy and Uncle Ed asked for custody. That was also the first time she promised to stop drinking.

I ain't gettin' any younger

And before my dyin' day

I want space, not just air

He'd asked Mom about Santa Fe after Dad died. She refused to talk about it. Then, last year, he'd asked her if maybe one day they could go together to Santa Fe. She'd laughed in his face, telling him he was a lousy dreamer just like his father and that he'd never make it out of New York. Roger didn't tell her he was already saving up for it.

Let 'em laugh in my face

I don't care

Save a place

I'll be there…

Roger said goodnight to his aunt, uncle, and cousin, and lay back on the bed. He could hear them talking in the hallway. He closed his eyes, pretending to sleep.

"Mom, why can't he just live here?" Maureen asked.

"Because his mother won't sign over custody. Without custody, all it would take is one phone call and she'd have the police here taking him back in a trooper's car. It's bad enough he has to live there, I don't want to put him through that."

Maureen sighed. Roger smirked, thinking he could almost hear her rolling her eyes in that sigh.

"I know she's your sister, but this is screwed up."

"Maureen, please. I know. Just…just go to bed and we'll all talk about this in the morning."

"Okay. Night, Mom. Love you."

"Night, sweetheart. I love you."

"Night, Daddy. I love you."

"Goodnight, honey. I love you."

Roger squeezed his eyes shut tighter, trying to hold in the tears.

So that's what they call a family

Ain't ya glad you ain't that way?

He forced his mind to his dreams of Santa Fe as the hot tears spilled down his cheeks.

Ain't you glad you got a dream called Santa Fe?