I could tell you,

if I wanted to,

what makes me,

what I am.

But I don't,

really want to,

and you don't,

give a damn.

-Langston Hughes

---------------------------------

Roger called Joanne- for my sake.

Because he was nosey.

Because he knew Joanne was sarcastic and straightforward and might be able to coax out whatever I was hiding.

Because he was worried about me.

...How sweet.

It was like a blind date.

Roger thought of telling her to meet me at the Life Café. The old haunt. More memories there than the cemetery. Happier memories.

Roger was smart. He scheduled the rendezvous at the Fifty-Fifth Street Deli. He told me to go buy milk. ...Whoops, look who it is...

-

"Hey Mark, fancy seeing you here!"

I told him not to call you- that's Roger- but should we talk since I'm here?

Sure, why not.

"Buying milk for the wife." I dangled the gallon in her face. Ha ha. I was funny. See Mark joke.

Joanne laughed, for real.

"How are the kids?"

"Well, little Sandy's come down with a nasty case of typhoid, and Timmy's stuck in a well. But otherwise, they're fine." Joke, Mark, joke. "And you?"

"Well, the wife's not feeling too well either."

"Maureen?"

"Who else? She's coming down with something. I'm getting her some shrimp fried rice. It's her version of chicken soup." She showcased a takeout container.

"Oh. Send my regards." Like I had regards for her pretensions ass.

We walked to the counter together.

The clerk scanned the milk's barcode.

$1.75.

I was short 50 cents.

...How embarrassing.

"Oh, n-nevermind. Here, I can stick it back in the cooler-"

"Mark." Joanne scolded, slapping two quarters on the counter. "Do you honestly think I'm here just to buy Chinese?"

"You're here to pick up my tab?"

"Yes- and to talk to you. Take your receipt. Come on Cohen, let's take a walk."

Outside, I leaned up against the window of Carnegie Deli.

"What do you want me to say?"

"Do you need to say anything?"

"Yes and no. Can I trust you?" I shifted the milk back and forth in my freezing hands.

"I'm a lawyer."

"…So I can't?"

We walked toward the Empire State Building.

"Do you want to take that home to Maureen first?" I asked, gesturing to the takeout container. "It's gonna get cold."

"She'll survive. We have a microwave."

"So your power's working?"

"Yes. Why? Yours isn't? Oh no. Benny."

"I assume. There- That's something I want to talk about. How it's thirty-five fucking degrees in the house and we can't even use the stove to light a candle."

"...No offense, but when do you guys have power?"

I sighed. My first genuine spark of real laughter provoked by someone else.

"Good point. But you'd think- Benny knows about Roger... He wouldn't shut off the heat on us, especially when we're in a period when Roger can't afford medical insurance. Benny usually cranks the thing so high Smokey the Bear would be all over our asses before he could say 'forest fire'. Better safe than sorry...for...Roger. That's why it makes me think this is someone beyond Benny's control. Like it's the Grey's or something. Little Allison getting revenge on Benny's slips in business conduct. She's telling daddy to freeze us solid, the little snitch. Then they'll bulldoze the lot, ice cubes and all."

"We could investigate…?"

"I was going to wait until Monday. Roger's got all the extra blankets and I'm moving him into my room. I figure the majority of New Yorkers are home for the weekend, so they'll be sucking their heater's dry. By Monday, when everyone's back at work, Benny might be able to catch a break and reheat us up."

"Do you want to take that risk?"

"Roger will be fine. I promise."

"Are you sure? There's a case of the flu going around. Like I said, Maureen's got it too. It takes seven days for a full-fledged cold to-"

"No Joanne. It's all right." I snapped.

"Whoa, whoa, sorry! I'm just worried about you guys."

I sighed. "Yeah. Thanks."

We walked silently for a few more blocks.

"Soo…where's your camera?" She tried to make it sound like she's just noticed I was only carrying the milk.

"Gee, for an accomplished lawyer you've got a horrible poker face… What did Roger say?"

"What do you mean? I just saw that…"

I stopped walking. "What did he say to you?"

"About everything or about the camera?"

"Hmm…lemme think. No- tell me what he concocted."

"Well, he called me up and told me he sent you to the deli for milk and he told me to catch you and act concerned."

"Act concerned?"

"Well- no- I am concerned. And then he explained that you've nixed the camera. I haven't seen you for a while, but now that I think about it the last time I saw you, you didn't have it either. Umm…what's up?"

I wanted to go home and punch Roger.

"Nothing. I just haven't felt like filming lately."

"Oh really? You'll have to do better than that."

"Listen, Ms. Shrink? I came out to buy milk, not bare my soul. I don't have to talk about it."

"But- but- Mark Cohen is to camera as fish is to water…"

"Bad analogy. I can breathe without my camera."

"But we can't."

"We?"

"Me and Roger and Maureen-"

"I just don't want to film anymore, okay!" I shouted. Several passersby stopped to stare. "Joanne, look. Thanks. Thanks, all right? I appreciate your valiant show of undercover work. But I'm- I gotta get home to Roger."

"Mark, if you need to talk about something…"

"I know the drill. I can handle this myself."

With that, I turned around and stormed away.

Really? Could I handle it?

Not according to the label on my pill bottle I couldn't.

I twisted the plastic straps of the grocery bag so tightly they wore thin and snapped. The milk bounced across the sidewalk, and I had to pick it up and carry the thing home without gloves on.