I'm cookin' up a resurrection
I'll serve it to you on a silver plate
You don't want a taste of the fantasies that I create
I'm walkin' on broken eggshells
Tryin' to make some sense of this
Tryin' to save face with false appearances
Riddlin' Kids, "Stop The World"
July stretched into August, and Collins' conditioned worsened. Now hooked up to an oxygen tank full time, Luc hired a part-time nurse who would come by every day for a few hours, administering care. Mark met her for the first time quite by accident. As he swung open the apartment door (which Luc usually left unlocked) to visit one afternoon, he was greeted by a woman's voice saying, "Whoa! Almost took my nose off there!"
Mark came face-to-face with a dark blonde woman with broad shoulders, a pleasantly round face, blue-green eyes and a rosebud mouth. She wore khaki pants and a nurses' smock that was printed with sunflowers. She looked familiar, but Mark could not place her.
"Oh, Mark," Luc's voice came from the kitchen. He stepped out into the foyer, looking comfortable in a pair of cargo shorts and a gray tee reading, UCLA Day of Silence 1998. "This is Anti. She's Tom's nurse."
"Hi," Mark said as they shook hands. "I'm—"
"Mark Cohen," Anti finished with a smile. "You don't remember me, do you?"
"…No, I'm sorry."
She laughed. "It's okay. Antonia Dorian. You edited my wedding video."
"Oh. Oh! Yeah! I remember now."
"Wow, small world. What a coincidence," Anti turned to Luc, "He did a fabulous job, I might add." She slipped her blue Coach bag onto her shoulder and turned her attention to Mark once more. "I recommended you to my friend Molly. She's getting married next month."
"Well, thanks for the referral. I appreciate it."
"My pleasure. Well, Luc, I'll see you guys tomorrow, okay? Mark, nice to see you again."
"You, too," Mark said as he stepped aside to let Anti leave. Once she was out of earshot, he mused aloud, "I didn't know she was a nurse."
"Mmm," Luc said absentmindedly as he closed the door behind Mark. "Has she ever showed you her tattoo?"
"I saw it on the wedding video. Her dress was backless."
"Wild, isn't it?"
"I guess."
"Roger's here," Luc said. He and Mark moved to the living room. "He and Tom are in the bedroom."
"Oh. Okay. Wow, I didn't know Roger would be here."
"He's been here since breakfast," Luc revealed. "The two of them have been playing cards and watching TV all day."
"Really? That's…interesting. I haven't seen Roger in days."
"Do you want anything? Café?"
"Too hot for coffee."
"Beer?"
"No, I'm good, thanks."
"Are Maureen and Joanne still on vacation?"
"I spoke to Maureen a few days ago: they come back at the end of next week. They'll come bearing gifts, as always."
"I was thinking of maybe taking Tom away for Labor Day weekend," Luc mused. "Anti said a change of scenery might be good for him."
"That'd be nice," Mark offered. "Do you miss California?"
"I miss Louisiana," Luc laughed. "I'm not a California boy, never was. I was raised in the bayou, cher. Or, pretty damn near close to it."
"Oh. I didn't know."
"Pas de problem," Luc waved it off. "Well, you probably want to go visit with Tom. I'll be in in a few minutes. Just washing up."
"All right. See you later then."
Mark wandered into Collins' room, where he was sitting up in bed, on top of the covers, fully dressed. He would have looked completely natural if he didn't have an oxygen mask on his face. Roger was sitting beside the bed. They were playing Crazy Eights, laying the cards out on a raised bedtray that was placed over Collins' legs.
"Hey," Roger greeted, looking up from his hand. Collins' offered a wave.
"Hi," Mark said, pulling up another chair. "Who's winning?"
"I'm kicking his ass," Collins said triumphantly.
"Hey, I've playing nothing but Solitaire for years! I'm not used to an opponent," Roger laughed. "I now know the true meaning of the game."
"You want to be dealt in?" Collins offered.
"Nah, maybe the next round," Mark said.
"You sure?" Roger asked.
"Yeah, I'm good."
"What's the matter?" Collins asked as Roger contemplated his next move.
"Nothing's the matter," Mark said quickly. Roger shot him a Look. "Everything's great."
"Everything okay with Steph?"
"Mm-hmm," Mark answered.
"You sure? Come on, Mark…you can tell me," Collins said gently. "I would hate for anything to happen to you guys."
"Nothing's going to happen. I mean, things are going to happen, but not the kind of things you think might happen. But things are definitely happening. But not the bad kind of thing."
Roger coughed to cover up a laugh as he discarded a card. Collins just gave him an odd stare. "Alright," he said. "But if you need anything: please don't hesitate."
"I won't."
"That goes for you, too!" Collins nudged Roger. He turned to Mark, "This one's been here since nine this morning. Just showed up like a puppy on the doorstep, asking what's for breakfast."
"Did not," Roger muttered. He scratched his stubble.
"You look like a hobo. Have you showered recently?"
"Of course I have."
"Don't you ever shave?"
"Are we going to play cards or discuss my personal hygiene?"
"Can't we do both?" Collins asked. "A-ha!" He placed down his last card, thus winning the hand. "Yes!"
"Crap," Roger muttered. "I'm glad we're not playing for money or I'd be broke by now."
Collins and Mark chuckled. Mark felt right at home with the two of them; it was just like the old days. He just wished things were slightly different.
Up late once again in his production room, Mark was rummaging through his desk, searching for his camera cleaning cloths. He usually had several on hand, but when he couldn't find them, he figured Stephanie must have taken them for the wash, as she did occasionally. Sighing, he pushed his rolling chair away from the desk and went on a hunt for tissues, a happy substitute.
After searching in the kitchen, living room, and spare bedroom for a box of tissues, he meandered into the bedroom and ducked into the cabinet under the sink. He opened up the double doors, moving cleaning products and rolls of toilet paper in search of one measly box of tissues.
Towards the back, his hand knocked something over. Hoping it was the tissues he was looking for, he pulled out a box.
It wasn't tissues. Instead, in his hand, was a box of tampons. An opened box of tampons. Mark furrowed his brow. Stephanie was pregnant—why did she need tampons?
They're not new, are they? Mark thought to himself, turning the box over in his hands. She must have bought them before she was pregnant. Without thinking, he tucked the box under his arm and took it into the bedroom, where Stephanie was sleeping, and hid it in one of his dresser drawers, underneath some winter sweaters.
With his heart pounding, he returned to the bathroom, grabbed a roll of toilet paper to clean his camera with, and retreated to the production room.
The next morning, Mark awoke when Stephanie did. He watched her actions carefully. He wasn't sure what he was looking for, but all he knew as that he was sure her actions would give something away. He got his answer a few hours later.
After breakfast, Stephanie went to use the bathroom, and Mark positioned himself outside the door, the box of tampons in hand. He listened. He held his breath. He definitely heard the creak of the cabinet doors opening. He definitely heard Stephanie rummaging through the contents of the cabinet. He heard her swear and hit the door. A few seconds later, he heard her flush the toilet for effect, and waited until the door swung open.
"Looking for these?" Mark asked when she emerged. He held up the box. She jumped at the sound of his voice.
"Mark. You scared me."
"Are you. Looking. For these?" he repeated.
"Mark…"
"Stephanie. Please. Don't…don't lie to me. Are you really pregnant?" She was silent. "Please," Mark begged again. "I…just don't lie. I want to know. You're not really pregnant, are you? Where's the pregnancy test you took? Why do you have these in the bathroom, hidden?" He threw the box of tampons on the floor. "I don't get it. Why did you lie to me?" He restrained himself from grabbing her by the shoulders and pinning her against the wall, he was that angry. He punched the wall instead, making Stephanie jump a little bit. When he saw the look on her face, he closed his eyes, took a deep breath and counted to ten. Stephanie's heart pounded. She wasn't quite sure what he was capable of.
When Mark finished counting, he turned away from her and went to the closet and shoved his feet into his Converse. She followed him. "Mark?! Mark, where are you going?!" When he didn't answer, she begged, "It's not what it looks like! Just...listen to my side of the story, please!" He bent to tie his shoes and she knelt beside him. "Where are you going?!"
"Does it matter?" he snapped, no longer concerned with her feelings. Without another word, he left the apartment, slamming the door behind him.
A/N: I figured that Luc would call his lover by his first name. That's why Collins is referred to as "Tom". Just putting that out there.
Also – WHO SAW ADAM PASCAL AND ANTHONY RAPP IN RENT TODAY (8/8/07)? I DID, BABY! 8TH ROW CENTER! Was it amazing? Incredible? Orgasmic? Why, yes. Yes it was.