Chapter Eight

He wasn't sure what it was that woke him, but all of a sudden he felt wide awake. A sudden chill ran through him and he rolled on his side as he stretched, instinctively remembering what he would find there. But when he blindly reached out to pull Maureen closer against him, his arm met nothing, brushing against the sheets. What the hell? He opened his eyes a crack to find himself alone in his bed. Once the realization hit him more fully he grabbed his glasses, sat up and looked around the room in confusion. In the pale morning light he noticed his clothes, still scattered all over the floor, but not hers. He looked at the bed again. The pillow next to him seemed creased, a definite evidence to her being there, but where was she? His mind was still a blur from sleep and last night's wine, but he remembered the way the previous night had ended. Only now he thought he must be making it up. Maybe he just wanted to believe it happened, maybe…

Maybe nothing. Maureen had spent the night, and now she was gone.

He entered the ensuite bathroom, feeling miffed. He wasn't at all bitter or disappointed. He wasn't even angry. It was just a strange turn of events. Fleeing in the middle of the night like this, as if the previous night had meant nothing, was something the old Maureen might have done, not this mature version of her he had grown so fond of. She must have had a good reason.

He took a quick shower, threw some clothes on, and made his way into the living room, only to come to a halt at the end of the hallway. There she was, leaning against the sofa Libby was still sleeping on, fast asleep. She had wrapped the afghan around her shoulders. Underneath it she was wearing the jeans she had on the previous night, and a sweatshirt and socks he recognized as his own. It looked as if she had been there a while, and he idly wondered how he'd slept through it. She looked neither warm nor comfortable. Guilt consumed him. What poor sense of hospitality, with him sleeping comfortably in his bed while his guests... But he didn't linger on it now; there were more urgent matters at hand. He approached her as quietly as he could, then knelt beside her and gently placed his hand against her cheek.

Her eyes fluttered open. "Mark," she murmured, looking disoriented.

"Hey," he smiled carefully at her.

She sat up and stretched her neck. He winced, scolding himself yet again. She wrapped the afghan more tightly around her. She glanced at Libby, then shifted her gaze back at him. "What time is it?" she asked in a whisper. He moved a bit backwards so she could stretch her legs.

"Nearly six," he replied. He hesitated, then decided to just ask it. "What are you doing here?" He didn't mean to sound accusing. He just had to know. He had to make sure she didn't regret it.

She leaned closer and ran a hand through his still damp hair. The motion eased his mind somewhat. "I just… wanted to be here when she wakes up." She threw another glance over her shoulder; when she looked at him again, her eyes were serious. "We need to talk about this."

"Wait, isn't it supposed to be my line?" he joked. She grinned sheepishly. It seemed to break the tension a bit. He took her hand in his and gave it a little squeeze. "I'll make some coffee and we'll talk, okay?"

"Yeah. That'll be great."

Still holding her hand, he pulled her into a standing position after him. Smiling, she dropped a kiss on his cheek before disappearing down the hallway, heading towards the bathroom, he figured.

By the time she reemerged, running her hand through her hair to give it some shape, he had the coffee ready, and he handed her a mug before leading the way to his study. He didn't want to risk waking Libby by opening the door to the balcony, and it was warmer in his study anyway. She settled in one corner of the old sofa, raising her knees to her chest. He kept the door half open, a fact she seemed to appreciate, then came to sit beside her.

"I think I remembered how you take your coffee," he said, nodding towards the mug she was hugging between her palms. Back then she liked her coffee strong, with a touch of cream and very little sugar. He hoped that, at least, hadn't changed.

"Thanks. And I stole some of your toothpaste, so thanks for that, too," she said. Then, as if she'd just remembered she was wearing his sweatshirt, she stretched one of the sleeves against her knuckles and flashed a crooked grin at him. He shook his head dismissively. She took a tiny sip of coffee, as if afraid to burn her tongue. She winced, and he all but held his breath until she smiled at him. "That's perfect."

"Phew," he said, smiling sheepishly at her.

"I didn't doubt for a second you'd get it right," she replied softly. Their eyes met; that seemed to be the opportunity she'd been waiting for. "I'm sorry I disappeared. I didn't want Libby to wake up alone and not remember where she was. And I didn't want to risk that if that happened, she'd somehow find her way to your bedroom and walk in on us. You were sleeping so deeply I didn't want to wake you just to tell you that."

He nodded. It made perfect sense. He didn't think he could handle the little girl's enquiries if that happened. If there was one thing he'd learned about Libby so far, it was that she was exactly like her mother; no one could fool her.

"You see, for so long, it has been just the two of us. Ever since I had Libby… Well, you know what it's like. People seem intimidated by the single mom type."

He noticed how she chose to say people rather than men, but decided not to dwell on it. It was none of his business anyway, and beside the point. "Their loss," he stated, and was shocked to notice faint blush gracing her cheeks.

"My point is, she's never seen me in a serious relationship with anyone, and this is going to be new to her. I just didn't want her to freak out. Or be traumatized. Or something." She sipped her coffee, then peeked at him over the rim of the mug. "What about you?"

"What about me?"

"Are you sure about this? I mean, I know you must think that you are, but are you, really? Because I need this to be clear right off the bat, Mark; Libby always comes first, for me. Being with me means being with her. We're sort of a package deal. You can't have one without the other." She shook her head as if embarrassed. "I feel silly to even say this, but I need to know you understand what you're getting yourself into."

"Don't feel silly. You only want what's best for her. I get that."

"No, it's not just that. All I ever wanted was for her to not get hurt because of my stupid mistakes. I don't want her to ever get hurt."

There was darkness in her stare, and he knew she was thinking about Libby's father, about the way her marriage had ended. "I will never hurt either of you. I will never expect you to put anything over her."

"You're welcome to try," she chuckled darkly, and her stare became so fierce he was momentarily intimidated, yet filled with awe. Who ever thought of Maureen Johnson as a protective mom? If someone had suggested it to him all those years ago, he would have probably laughed at that person's face.

"We really need to think this through, though, before I tell her anything." She had that hesitant look. Her eyes were somber, almost desperate, as they met his. "How the hell are we going to do this?"

It was the one question he was constantly asking himself, yet still didn't have the answer. "I can move to San Francisco, I guess," he said tentatively. It would be a tough sacrifice, but he was willing to do it for them. He made himself a fine reputation in the past few years. He could easily find jobs there, maybe open another gallery. It could work.

Maureen shook her head. "No. No, you can't leave New York. Your work is here, and your friends, everything. I don't want you to give up all that." He wasn't used to this new trait of her, of putting everyone else first. Must be a result of motherhood, he mused. "Libby won't start school until next year, so that's not supposed to be an issue. I can't quit my job though."

"I don't want you to quit." From what he had known so far, she loved her job. She was good at it. What gave him the right to expect her to give it up?

There was a bit of silence, as if she was considering the options. He did too. He could go there every weekend, maybe every other weekend if things were really tough. And Maureen and Libby could visit too. It was only several hours away by plane. But he didn't want that sort of life, where they would only be his for several days. He wanted to be with them always.

"Shit," she whispered after a while. "There's no way, is there?"

He couldn't give it up. He wouldn't. "We'll figure it out. Don't think about it now," he said, gently taking the mug from her hands. He placed both mugs on a side table, and she scooted closer to him as he wrapped his arms around her. She closed her eyes and lay her head on his chest. As he dropped a kiss into her hair, he heard her sigh and felt her body relax against his. Her heartbeat lulled him to sleep; he felt himself slowly drifting.

"What are you doing?"

His eyes snapped open. He didn't even remember closing them. They were lying on the sofa, Maureen sprawled across his chest. His arms were still wrapped around her. She opened her eyes as well, looking a bit disoriented. Did they fall asleep? He didn't even know how much time had elapsed. They both raised their heads, startled, to look at Libby, who was standing at the entrance to his study, her hair in tangles, eyeing them curiously.

"Your mommy was a bit cold," he improvised, and felt sort of proud as Libby slowly nodded, as if his explanation made sense. "And I guess we fell asleep."

"Come here, Munchkin," said Maureen as they sat up, gently pulling Libby's arm so she would sit in her lap. He scooted to the other end of the sofa so as not to force his presence on them. Maureen smiled at him over her daughter's head as if she understood what he was doing. "Did you sleep okay?"

Libby nodded, cuddling against Maureen. His heart melted. How could anyone resist her?

"So what do you want to do today?" he asked. He didn't want this to end. He wanted to spend as much time with them as he could. Maybe if he did, the answer would come to him. It had to come to him. He didn't want to let them go, ever. Not as soon as he got her back.

"We could go to the zoo in Central Park," offered Maureen, and Libby nodded enthusiastically.

"Okay, and then I'll take you to the best candy store in the world," he promised, already imagining Libby's reaction as she saw those three floors of pure joy. He sniggered at the glimmer in Maureen's eyes. He was already familiar with her sweet tooth; it seemed motherhood only made it worse.

"Sounds like a plan," she said. "But first, breakfast?"

"Breakfast, and then a surprise," he said mysteriously, when the best idea suddenly occurred to him.

They made blueberry pancakes for breakfast, and afterwards he told them to wait in the living room as he ventured back into his study. He still kept his old film reels, although there was no use in them anymore. Following Collins' death, with Tammy's encouragement and Roger's assistance, he converted everything he had on those reels into video tapes. They sat for hours, watching scenes from their past, people and places they hadn't seen in years. They both cried as the familiar memories flashed on the TV screen. He smiled sadly as he remembered the intense week when they did most of this work. He was glad Roger had the chance to watch it all again before his death. He wished Roger could see Maureen again, and meet Libby, her teddybear with whom he shared a name... He would have loved her.

He grabbed one tape and returned to the living room, where Maureen and Libby were still waiting.

"VHS?" asked Maureen cheekily, cocking an eyebrow as he turned the TV on. "What year is this again?"

"Like I haven't heard that one before," he mock-grumbled as he placed the tape inside the player. Converting the tapes into DVDs was on the top of his list, but as always, life interfered. At least he had a VHS player that still worked; possibly the last one in all Manhattan.

"We're watching a movie?" asked Libby curiously. She sat against Maureen with her teddybear in her lap, and he sat down beside her.

"Not exactly," he replied enigmatically. He could feel Maureen's expectant gaze on him as he pressed Play. It took a second for the picture to clear, and the first shot was of Angel in her Santa coat, doing a little drum show for the camera. He heard Maureen gasp and glanced at her. She didn't remove her eyes from the screen as the scene changed, and it was now Roger with Mimi, on the roof of the loft… Collins in a middle of a wild laughter… Joanne and her sharing one peaceful moment…

"Mommy, who is this woman?" asked Libby.

"She's an old friend of ours. Her name is Joanne," said Maureen. Her voice was soft and distant, as if lost in memory. He wondered if she'd ever tell Libby the truth about the kind of a friend Joanne really was for her.

The scene changed again; zoom in on Roger, who was sitting on their old couch in their loft in his shabby plaid pants and tee shirt. His guitar was in his lap, and he was singing, making seductive faces at the camera in his best rock star attitude. He smirked. It had been a year since he lost his best friend. He missed Roger so much.

Another scene. Collins and Maureen, dragging him trick-or-treating all over the Village in a group costume of Little Shop of Horrors. Maureen was the sexiest Audrey he had ever seen, and Collins was the weirdest plant in existence. No one could pull off that green sparkly leotard as well as he did. He could barely look at himself; although looking like Seymour didn't take much effort on his part, his own costume paled next to these two. Roger and April roared with laughter when they –

"Mommy, why are you crying?"

He shifted his attention from the screen to Maureen only to realize that she was crying. Silent tears were streaming down her face. She didn't try to hide them or wipe them away. "Mo? Are you okay?" he asked, concerned.

"Mommy?" asked Libby again. This time she sounded frightened. Her little hands were clutching the fabric of Maureen' sweatshirt. That seemed to snap Maureen back into the here and now. She nodded and gave Libby's hand a reassuring squeeze.

"I'm fine, baby, it's just… I haven't seen those people in a very long time."

"You won't see them again?"

The question seemed to catch her off-guard. Her bottom lip trembled ever so slightly. Somehow, though, she managed to reply. "Not for a while, sweetheart."

He could barely take it. He expected it to be emotional for her. Hell, he was in tears all week after watching it the first time. But he didn't expect her reaction to be so intense. The last thing he wanted to do was upset her. Then again, maybe he should have seen it coming, he thought, suddenly remembering their conversation on the balcony just the previous night, the huge effort she seemed to be making to keep herself together. And now those videos... You idiot, he scolded himself. He grabbed the remote and stopped the tape.

She turned to look at him, surprised. "Why did you stop it?"

"Because you're a mess. I didn't mean – "

"Turn it back on, silly," she laughed through tears. He hesitated for a second, but did as she asked. The next thing was her protest at the lot. The dream, Benny, the mooing, the riot. This time she laughed aloud.

After deciding to move the visit to the zoo to one of Maureen's days off, they spent a lazy morning at his apartment, and returned to the hotel around noon. It was time for Libby's nap, and Maureen wanted to shower and change before they headed out again. Knowing they would have about two hours to kill, he busied himself by solving a crossword puzzle he had saved from last weekend's paper. He was still working on it when Maureen padded into the living area. She scooted close to him and lay her head against his shoulder. "Do you need help?" she murmured.

He glanced at her. "You hate crossword puzzles."

"I used to," she replied, taking the paper from him. He handed her his pen, and watched her as she filled a few places he had left blank. He didn't try to provide answers even when he thought he knew them. He just enjoyed watching her stare at the page in concentration. The scent of soap that lingered on her skin tickled his nostrils. He couldn't focus on the crossword even if he tried.

"Are you okay?"

He didn't realize he had asked it aloud until she turned to look at him. "What are you talking about?"

"The videos. I mean you looked sort of rattled. I'm sorry, I wasn't thinking."

"We can't undo what happened. They're gone. We might as well enjoy their legacy, and impart it."

"When did you become so smart?" He regretted the question as soon as he'd uttered it. It sounded too blunt; he hoped she wouldn't be offended. But rather, she grinned haughtily at him.

"I told you I'm a keeper," she said, meeting him halfway for a brief kiss. "I'm fine. I promise. And speaking of promises," she added, and there was this naughty spark in her eyes now. "I think you mentioned something about a fabulous candy store this morning?"

When Libby woke they went out, thinking they could all use the fresh air. He took them to the candy store he'd told them about in the morning and enjoyed the reactions of both mother and daughter to the extraordinary selection. Really, Maureen was just as bad as Libby, so much so that he had to jokingly restrain her several times. She called him a party pooper, but stole a few kisses when Libby wasn't paying attention.

They found an Italian restaurant close to the candy store and shared a pizza for dinner. He was sort of shocked Libby wasn't tired of his presence yet. She seemed to just accept him being there with her and her mother. When she asked about the people in the video they watched, he was amazed with the honesty with which Maureen told her about their friends; it was as if she was talking to a grownup. Pretty soon he found himself taking part of the conversation, and she drank in his every word as if they were fairytales, her eyes never leaving his.

He walked them back to the hotel reluctantly, not wanting the day to end. Now that New Year was behind them, every moment seemed twice as precious – even with Maureen's few days off, they didn't have much time left. Libby asked him to read her a story and he was more than happy to oblige. He could feel Maureen's eyes on him with every page he turned, until eventually she touched his shoulder gently, then nodded towards the bed. At some point Libby had fallen asleep and he didn't even realize.

He placed the book next to her, then tiptoed out of the room after Maureen. She led him to the door, and smiled at him sorrowfully as if she too didn't want to say goodbye. "See you tomorrow?" she asked, reaching out to straighten a crease on his coat.

"Aren't you sick of me yet?" She shook her head no, and her lips curled in a tiny shy smile. "Then yeah, see you tomorrow."

She threw a glance at the dark hallway, then pulled him towards her for a lingering kiss. It suddenly dawned on him this was the thing he had been longing for since he woke up that morning only to find her gone. And judging by the regret he found in her eyes as she slowly pulled away, he knew she had been, too.

"Good night," she whispered, her eyes glimmering with wordless promises in the dim light.

His cell phone started ringing just as he turned into his street. He smiled as he recognized her number. "Hey," he said uncertainly, suddenly thinking something may be wrong. Why else she would call him? He was just there not thirty minutes ago. "Is everything alright?"

"Yeah, I just realized that I forgot to tell you something."

He smiled. She sounded like Maureen of the old times, random and quirky, calling at the strangest hours to tell him the weirdest things. "What?"

There was a short pause, as if she hesitated, but only for a second. "I love you."

He just stopped dead on his tracks in the middle of the street. The person who was coming in front of him threw him a dirty look as they nearly bumped into one another. He didn't even apologize; he barely noticed. It took only a second for her words to sink in. "I love you too."

"Good night." He could hear the smile in her voice. She hung up before he had a chance to say anything else, but there wasn't really much to say.

Manhattan had had its share of weirdoes in its many years of existence, so the sight of him, skipping all the way home and smiling like an idiot wasn't exceptional. If someone had noticed him, they would probably think he was either drunk, stoned, insane, possibly all of the above. But the truth was that he didn't give a shit. She loved him. That was the only thing that mattered.