Why can't you shoulder the blame
'Cause both my shoulders are heavy
From the weight of us both
You're a big boy, now so let's not talk about growth
You've not heard a single word I have said.
Oh, my God.
Snow Patrol, "How To Be Dead"
The divorce papers arrived, served by a dour looking older woman in a navy blue business suit, but Mark didn't sign them. He didn't want anyone to know that Stephanie had left. He wanted to ignore the fact that he awoke to a cold and empty bed, ate his meals alone, spent his days in his production room until he emerged in the early afternoon to spend time with Collins and everyone else. Occasionally he could be lured out by Roger or Joanne, but more often than not, he stayed to himself. She'd left Spike behind, a sure indication that she might be coming back.
Weeks passed. The twenty-fifth of September was Mark's thirty-second birthday and October tenth was Joanne's thirty-seventh. Luc insisted on having everyone over for a small, impromptu joint birthday party at the apartment. When Mark was reluctant, never a big fan of having his birthday celebrated, Luc was persistent. "I'll make a strawberry shortcake," he enticed, "from scratch, oui? Come, it will be fun."
And so Mark found himself being forced to attend his own birthday party. He arrived a few minutes late, with Maureen and Joanne on his heels, the kids in tow.
"Oh, we're right behind the birthday boy," Maureen smiled. "I guess we're not all that late."
"Well, considering Mark and I are the guests of honor," Joanne said, holding Nina on her hip, "they can't really start without us." She kissed Mark's cheek. "Happy belated."
"Happy upcoming," Mark replied with a small smile. He kissed her back and then gave one to Maureen as well. "Let's get this show on the road, shall we?"
"Can't you pretend to be happy?" Maureen asked him with a playful glare.
"Happy about being thirty-two?"
"You think I'm thrilled about being thirty-seven?" Joanne rolled her eyes. "I'm almost forty, for godssake."
"No, no, Mark has this complex about growing older," Maureen explained. "It was murder celebrating his birthday every year. I'd get him a cupcake with a candle in it and he'd have a nervous breakdown."
"I did not!" Mark insisted.
Maureen smirked and then raised an eyebrow. "Hey…was that—no, never mind."
"What?"
"I thought I saw a gray hair."
As Mark frantically ran his fingers through his hair, Joanne giggled and knocked on the door. Luc answered, wearing khakis and a baby-blue button down.
"Hey, y'all," he smiled; opening the door and letting them come inside. "Glad you're here."
"Well, thanks for having us," Maureen smiled, greeting Luc with a kiss.
"Oh, it's the least I could do for the birthday boy and girl," he said as they all filed in. He held his arms out and Joanne passed Nina over to him. The girl giggled with delight at seeing Luc.
"Don't say the B-word in front of Mark," Maureen admonished. "He might just crack this time."
"Oh-oh. Aren't we a little young for a midlife crisis, Mark?" Luc teased.
"I had a midlife crisis on my bar mitzvah," Mark muttered.
"Cheer up," Luc patted Mark on the shoulder. "You're not over the hill yet."
"If I ever make it over the hill, I'm going to take a nap. Where's Roger?"
At the sound of his name, Roger emerged from Collins's bedroom, holding his guitar by the neck. Maureen spotted him first. "Hey!" she exclaimed, hugging him. She kissed his cheek. "How are you?"
"Fine," he said softly.
"You have your guitar out. Are you playing?"
"I was. For a bit. Just some random tunes."
"Are you alright?"
"I'm fine."
"You look a little ashy."
"I'm fine, Maureen," he snapped.
She gave him a hard look. "Fine, then."
They gathered in the bedroom. Luc sitting on the bed with Collins; Mark sitting beside the bed in an armchair; Maureen in Collins's high-backed office chair; Joanne in a chair pulled from the kitchen. Roger sat on the floor with his guitar, playing softly for Nina's amusement. She stared at the guitar as if it was a bowl of ice cream. Occasionally, she would reach out and pluck a string, giggling. Hunter busied himself with a coloring book and crayons that Luc had bought for him.
During a break in the conversation, Mark took a deep breath and said, in a low voice, "Stephanie left me."
Collins' face fell. "Oh, Mark. No."
"Left you?" Joanne repeated. "Like…left you?"
"Like, packed up her shit and drove off. At least she had the decency to tell me in person, that's all I can say," Mark said, looking down at his hands, fingers interlocking. It was only then he realized he was still wearing his wedding band. He went to remove it, but Collins put his hand over Mark's.
"She'll change her mind," he said.
He paused. "I don't think so." He didn't tell them about the divorce papers.
"Don't take it off just yet. Let her cool down for a bit. She'll change her mind."
Mark slid the band back onto his finger with a defeated sigh. He would slip it into his pocket once he left for the day.
Roger sulked, as he had ten years ago when Angel was in Collins' place. He had barely spoken all day. Mark had half a mind to reach out and whack Roger upside the head just to bring him out of his funk. But all it would do was drive him away.
After another two hours, Luc announced that he had to go pick up dinner. "I know I said I'd cook, but I just don't have the energy lately," he said. "I did make the cake though. But an entire meal for eight people just isn't doable for me right now."
"I can go get the food," Maureen offered.
"No, I'll do it," Mark replied.
"Mark, don't be silly. This is your birthday we're celebrating!"
"And the least I can do is go get the food."
"Are you sure?" Luc asked.
"Positive. I don't mind at all."
"Well…all right," Luc said. "As long as you don't mind." He went to the desk in the bedroom and went to his wallet, pulling out a fifty dollar bill and pressing it into Mark's hand. "I appreciate this. The order's under my name."
"It's no problem. Roger?"
Roger glanced up from his chair in the corner. "Yeah?"
"Come take a walk with me."
"What's up with you?" Mark asked once they were on the street.
"What's up with me?" Roger shot back.
"Yeah. You're just sitting there like a lump, shutting everyone out. It's bringing everyone down."
"Are you sure that's me and not the fact that our best friend is dying?"
"We're all trying to make the most of it."
"Make the most of it?"
"Yes. Collins is dying, true, but let's try to cherish the time we have left with him."
"That's very Hallmark, Mark, but don't you see—I'm next!"
Mark stopped walking and looked at his friend. "What are you talking about?"
"First Angel…then Mimi. Now Collins. I'm next."
"No, you're not," Mark replied firmly.
"How do you know? Who knew Angel would go so fast? Who knew Collins would get this lymphoma? And Mimi—" Roger cut himself off, his hand mindlessly went to toy with Mimi's wedding ring around his neck, which was strung alongside his. "I can't do this, Mark. Not again."
Mark pulled Roger the rest of the way to the deli that Luc had ordered dinner from. Once inside, he hugged his friend tightly. "It's going to be okay, Roger. I promise."
"I don't want to die."
"You're not going to."
"Not today, but I will."
The two men pulled apart. Mark's heart nearly cracked in two when he saw Roger's eyes filled with tears. "Sometimes I just miss her so much…"
Mark put a hand on Roger's shoulder. "I know, it's tough."
"It shouldn't be. Why haven't I moved on?"
"Maybe because you and Mimi were truly in love. Not like me and Steph. She's probably moved on already."
"That's not true. It's only been a month."
"I think she might have been seeing someone behind my back," Mark added quietly. He wasn't sure if this was true or not, but he sure as hell wasn't going to rule it out.
Roger chewed his lower lip. He'd been through this with Mark before. Ever since Maureen had left him badly burned, Mark always had a sneaking suspicion that every one of his subsequent girlfriends was cheating on him. He never got over it and it had ruined many a relationship—until he married Stephanie. For a while, Roger thought his best friend had made a change for the better, until this.
"I don't think…our love for each other was very strong in the first place," Mark continued. "No love…just attraction. You were lucky, Roger, to have found Mimi. That was real."
Roger crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the wall of the deli. He didn't want to hear Mark preach again. Mark felt miffed.
"Let's just get the food and go," Mark muttered. He approached the deli counter and told the cashier the name on the food order. Once Mark paid the man, he handed one of the plastic bags to Roger and said, "Make yourself useful."
Roger scowled as he followed Mark out of the deli. "What the fuck's your problem?"
Mark whirled on his friend, "My problem? Shit, Roger, you're almost forty years old and you're the one acting like a child!"
"Don't get pissed at me just because your wife left you!"
Mark's blood ran cold. He swallowed hard. "That was harsh." Roger remained silent. Mark sighed and shook his head, "Let's…let's just try to get through the rest of the day without gnashing at each other, okay?"
"All right."
"Fine."
They walked, heads down, back towards the apartment.