Please, don't pick me up
Cus I'm trying to take a break from the world
Cus we ain't been heard
See, we ain't so bad
We got everything we need to survive
Cus you gave us a life.
Van Tramp, "The Garden"
After Roger was greeted and hugged and kissed within an inch of his life, Luc immediately handed him a plate of the food he'd missed out on. It wasn't cold, but it wasn't hot either. Luc apologized, but Roger claimed he didn't mind; he'd had worse.
"For dessert," Luc announced to everyone else, "there's pecan pie, beignets, and strawberry shortcake. And I picked up a box of cookies for the little ones." He placed everything out on the counter and wiped his hands on a dishtowel.
"Wow," Maureen exclaimed, thoroughly impressed. "You're like, really good at this cooking thing." She smiled as Hunter eagerly took a chocolate chip cookie that Luc handed to him.
"Oh, I learned only from the best. My mother," he smiled. "If you'd like, I'll be happy to teach you a few things."
"Really? That'd be stupendous. I'm pretty useless in the kitchen."
"Not for long, with my help."
While everyone else treated themselves to Luc's desserts, Mark and Roger shared a private conversation. Roger was eating a cookie.
"Where have you been?" Mark asked him.
"Jesus, I haven't been here for five minutes and you're already playing detective? Lay off me, would you?" Roger scowled.
"Why won't you accept anyone's offer for shelter?"
"Because, I don't need it."
"Why haven't we seen you for two weeks?"
"I…I needed to clear my head, okay? I hate being back here. You of all people should know that." He brushed cookie crumbs off his hands.
Mark shook his head. "You're a disappointment, Roger." He turned away from his friend and went to the couch, where Stephanie was sitting with Maureen. "Steph, can we get out of here soon?"
Stephanie gave him a strange look. "I—what? Really? You've been waiting for Ro—"
"I just would really, really like to get home right now. Please." He paused. "I have work to do."
Another look from Stephanie made Mark wish he could have retracted what he just said. "Alright, babe. Just…can you wait an hour?"
An hour. You might have well asked me to wait an eternity. "Yeah. I can wait another hour."
"Have another glass of wine and catch up with Roger." It sounded more like an admonishment than a suggestion. Go play with the other kids. Mommy isn't done here yet.
When Mark turned back to Roger, he saw that Roger was now engrossed in a conversation with Joanne. He was sitting on the floor of the apartment, cross-legged, with Nina in his lap. His hands were on the tops of his knees, palms up, and Nina was finding particular joy in slapping her palms against his, as if she were giving him a high-five. Every so often, Roger would playfully catch her hand in his, making her squeal and giggle with amusement. For some reason, the toddler had taken to him very quickly. Joanne, who was perched on the couch, was impressed.
"When did you get so good with kids?" she asked.
"Since I became an uncle, I guess," Roger shrugged. He looked over his shoulder at Mark. "What's up his ass?"
"He's worried about you," Joanne said gently. "He wants to help you but you're not really giving him a chance."
Roger rolled his eyes. "I'm a big boy now. I don't need Mark Cohen to take care of me anymore." He averted his gaze when Mark came over.
"Hey," Mark said, sitting on the arm of the couch, beside Joanne. Roger merely nodded, acknowledging Mark's appearance.
"How long do you plan on staying?" Joanne asked Roger. "A few weeks?"
"I don't know," he mused. He continued his game with Nina as he carried on the conversation. "Maybe. Maybe longer, maybe shorter. I don't know. It depends on how I feel."
"How are you feeling these days?" she further inquired.
Roger paused. "I've been better." His left hand caught Nina's left hand, like a mousetrap, and Nina laughed. "I enjoyed Vegas."
"Mark said you were living with your brother."
"Mm-hmm. My little brother Calvin and his wife. I wasn't living there the whole time. I traveled, saw the country. Made money from performing."
"You're performing?"
"Every so often. I started writing songs while I was on the road."
"You started writing songs?" Collins entered the conversation. He had his handkerchief out more and more often. He explained that his cough got worse as the day wore on, making it necessary to sleep wearing an oxygen mask.
"A few, yeah," Roger admitted sheepishly.
"Will you sing one for us?"
Roger blanched. He pursed his lips and caught Nina's right hand this time; she gave another loud giggle. "I'm not in the mood to sing."
"Oh, come on—it's been so long," Joanne urged. "Not since your—" She cut herself off. "It's been a few years."
Roger knew what she was referring to. Since Mimi and Roger could not afford a big wedding, they had to sacrifice the little things. Roger himself sang as Mimi walked down the aisle: "For Once In My Life" by Stevie Wonder.
"Yeah," Collins urged. "It's been way too long since we've heard you sing."
"I'm nothing like I was," Roger replied. Nina had lost interest in their palm-slapping game and was now distracted by the chain around Roger's neck where the wedding rings hung from. "My voice isn't at the top of its game." Nina's tiny hands reached up to grab the chain; Roger didn't mind until the toddler gave the chain a sharp yank. The chain didn't snap, but Roger was alarmed and carefully pried the chain from her fingers, tucking it underneath his shirt. Maureen noticed this out of the corner of her eye.
"Sorry about that," she apologized as she pulled herself away from her conversation with Stephanie for a moment. "She likes shiny things. She's like a monkey."
"It's okay," Roger said, but Nina was offended that her "toy" had been taken away. Her heart-shaped face crumpled and she reached out for Mommy, crying. "Oh…but it's apparently not okay for Nina." He lifted her off his lap and held her out to Joanne, who took her. "I didn't want her to break it, so I—"
"You don't have to make excuses," Joanne said with a small smile, trying to soothe her daughter. Nina wrapped her arms around Joanne's neck. "We learned the hard way. She likes shiny things and she likes to pull—lost quite a number of earrings thanks to her."
"Not to mention necklaces," Maureen added.
"Maybe you should sing. It will calm her down," Collins suggested with a small smile.
"I don't have my guitar with me," Roger said.
"Can you sing a cappella?" Luc asked curiously. He brought Nina a cookie, which she took happily.
"Roger, you're going to sing?" Mark inquired. He'd only heard bits and pieces of the conversation.
Great, Now the whole room is egging me on. "No, I—"
"What's wrong with singing a cappella?" Collins asked. "Not having a guitar never stopped you when you were in the shower."
Mark and Maureen busted out laughing, Collins along with them. Roger blushed furiously.
"Alright already," he relented. "If it will make you chuckleheads shut the hell up."
"It will," Collins said happily. "And don't cuss in front of the babies."
"I'm not a baby!" chirped Hunter, insistently. He was quieted by Maureen.
The room was then silent. The proverbial pin drop could be heard. Roger felt caught between a rock and a hard place. Do or die time.
He cleared his throat and, softly, began to sing,
"Oh brother won't you pray for me for all that lies ahead.
Keep me from the wrongs I'm bound to write.
And sister, it'll stay with me, all the things you said,
As the lights go down and I kiss the world good night.
And here I'm standing high above the water.
A fallen angel stares into my eyes.
And late night bard and big old cars
Crash inside my head
And shooting stars and twisted stripes collide.
Help me, help me make it
Through the night."
He closed his eyes when he sang, as he almost always did. He concentrated on nothing but the words, trying to make them sound halfway decent without the accompaniment of a guitar. It was a little harder halfway though the song, where it mainly relied on the tempo of the music, but miraculously, his voice seemed to make up for it. When he was done, he opened his eyes, slowly. Everyone was still, until Collins clapped fiercely. The rest of the gang followed eagerly. Maureen gave a little whoop of joy, in true Maureen fashion. A fast blush crept up Roger's neck.
"That was great, Roger," Collins grinned, patting his shoulder.
"Thank you," Roger replied. His face felt hot all of a sudden and unbuttoned one of the buttons on his shirt.
"Where did you write that?" Stephanie asked.
"I…I wrote it in…Colorado," Roger sputtered. "I was camping out by the Rockies."
"You alright?" Mark asked him. "You look—"
"I think I need some fresh air," Roger said. "Would you mind if I…"
"Not at all," Collins said. "Go ahead."
"Thanks," Roger whispered. He wiped his forehead on his brow and ducked out of the apartment.
The room filled with an awkward level of silence once Roger left. Maureen and Joanne took this as their cue to leave: the kids were getting cranky anyway.
"I think you should go check on Roger," Stephanie suggested after they had all had hugged and kissed Maureen and Joanne good-bye. "I'll help Luc clean up."
"You think I should?" Mark asked.
"Yeah," Collins nodded as he began to clear the coffee table. "Just make sure he's alright. He's probably on the roof—no matter where that boy is; he can't resist getting away to a roof."
A/N: Roger's song is actually "Help Me Make It" by Van Tramp—a band headed by none other than Tim Howar, the current Broadway Roger.