I've heard it said,
that people come into our lives for a reason,
bringing something we must learn.
And we are lead
to those who help us most to grow,
if we let them.
And we help them in return.
-Wicked
------------------------------------------------------------
It was necessary that I went to visit Roger. I tried to keep our conversation light, but his situation just ruined customary exchange inescapably.
--
"…When I die what will you do?"
"Roger, you're regressing. Why are you so suddenly accepting of death?"
"Don't change the subject Mark. Just answer my question."
"I can't answer that."
"Then let me answer it for you. You're going to let me go."
"Roger, why are you talking about this?"
"Oh, so it's only okay when you bring it up?"
"I don't like talking about it!"
"Well, we're going to have to start sometime. You should be happy for me, because I've finally stopped pretending I'm going to be okay."
I felt like someone just stabbed my heart. I laughed quietly, blinking back a few tears that had unsurprisingly sprung into my vision. "Roger- …when- when I say those kinds of things I don't really mean them…"
"Shut up, yes you do. And over the years I've found I should listen to what you tell me…"
I laugh again. "Yeah, only when it's in your best interest…"
He laughs too and thinks a moment. "However- I'm having trouble accepting the fact that death is in my best interest."
More laughter. Why was this so damn funny? Why was I sitting here laughing as Roger was falling apart beside me?
"Then…don't follow my advice." I suggest.
Roger smiles and grabs his head in his hands.
"Do you know how fucking weird this feels? I mean, I could wake up tomorrow and be gone… but while I'm falling asleep I'll be thinking, '…Wonder what they're serving for breakfast tomorrow…?' At least if I don't deny death I'll be somewhat prepared each night to not wake up…"
Now the tears start falling freely from my eyes and I lightly punch Roger's mattress. "No one can be prepared for death Roger… no one."
"Yeah, but-"
"No. No, don't even talk like that. Besides, who says you're going to die? You?"
"Well…we don't have insurance, Mark. They're technically preparing to kick me out of here any day now. The bills aren't being paid. But my sustenance aside, I feel pretty damn morbid…" He tries to crack a smile.
"Why are you smiling? This is not funny!" I put my forehead to his mattress and laugh. What else was there for us to do? I look back at him and try to keep the corners of my mouth from curling up. "What are we supposed to do?"
"We could steal the AZT safe and hit the road…"
"And then?"
Roger snorts. "I don't know. I really don't know. We give up. Because you're right- death is inevitable."
I pull back and wipe my eyes. "We all die, Roger!"
"I know!" He snaps. Suddenly, he's frightened. "But I don't want to suffer!"
And suddenly, I'm angry. "I don't want to outlive you!"
"I don't want to die!"
"I don't want you to die!"
"…Well then I'll just fucking live forever, okay Mark? Because that's so damn easy!"
"Don't yell at me! I don't know what to say any more than you do!"
"Well, think of something please! Because I'm fucking terrified. Hurry up Mark. You've never failed me before."
"What do you want me to say! 'It's okay Roger'? Because I thought we just went over this! It isn't okay! Ha! Why don't you say something for a change? Anything you need to get off your chest? Because apparently you've set the timer for yourself!"
"Are you asking me for my last words? My will? Is that what you want from me Mark?"
"…Maybe I am!"
I turn from Roger and scowl. This feels like a fucking soap opera.
"Do you really want to know?" He asks quietly from behind me. "…Because I want to tell you…"
I turn to face him and he looks me in the eyes. He just stares me down for a moment, shoulders tense.
"In all honesty? I'm ready. But I don't really know-" He swallows. "If you are."
Did I really wear my heart that obviously on my sleeve? Before I can cry again he continues.
"I think you need to know that it's gonna be okay for me to die."
I scoff. "How?"
"I…" He hesitates to regroup. "Because I found everything I needed to-" He swallows again. "…In this world. Although it might not seem that way. I learned all my…life lessons the hard way. But I think-" He chuckles, deep in thought. "I think I've covered everything a person needs to experience in a lifetime. Hatred and love, fame and desertion and… glory and- a fall from grace, trauma and tragedy, Oh God, do I know tragedy…and sorrow and hope and…" Now it's Roger's turn to cry. Very, very hard. "But the only reason I found hope Mark, is because I found friendship. You. I'd already be dead if it weren't for you. I had Collins and Benny and everyone else, and I've done things for myself in this life, but you've done more for me than I ever could. And, well, I've put you through some shit." He laughs.
"And I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry Mark. But at the same time, I am so, so grateful for all you've taught me and all the times you've kept me alive-" He stops. "Mark? There was never a time you gave up, was there? All the times I left you alone or I neglected you or pushed you away or froze up, you were still right there. Always. And words- last words-" He sobs. "Aren't going to cover that. I can't- you- there's nothing else to say! All you've ever done for me is just a reflection of what I'm feeling right now. You helped me to prepare to go, Mark, whether you realize it or not. There is no way to put that into words. I've used up my life. It's- but- and I feel-" He squeezes his temples.
"I feel it's not fair to you! Because I can't repay you! I can just cause you more grief- just put you through something else. But that's why I asked you what you're going to do once I'm gone, because I need to make sure you're going to be okay. You're not okay, I can see it! I've admitted my doubt- but now- I need you to!"
I can't bring myself to cry, or even speak.
Roger punches the bed.
"Oh, come on! Don't do this to me Mark! Please! Just talk. Let me know you're going to pull through. I think… I can't let go until I know that. I don't want to die but I sure as hell don't want to have to hold on by the fucking thread that you've put between us!" He reaches out and shakes my shoulders.
I grab his arms wrathfully and pull them off of me.
"Roger! I can't outlive you!" I throw his arms down in exasperation and stand up.
"You said that already! Where are you going? Come back." He grabs his IV pole and squeezes it. "I will rip this thing from my arm, I swear to God. Sit back down and tell me you're not going to do anything stupid if I die!"
I turn around slowly, eyes wild.
"Oh, but I will."
I bite my lip, which has begun to quiver uncontrollably. Roger jabs his finger at the seat of the chair and I obey.
"Like what?"
"I'm going to make myself want to forget." I mutter.
"Forget what?" He cuts me off.
"You."
I fall silent and look away. I was a hypocrite. I've always been a fucking hypocrite. I would leave the past behind if Roger ever left me.
"Oh no. No no no. I was afraid of that. How, exactly, did you plan on doing that?"
"What, forgetting you? I- don't want to- I don't know."
"What will you do?"
"I don't know."
"Will you make me a memory? Because this is the part where I get to pay you back Mark. Maybe you don't remember, but I've lost two of the people I loved. And both times they promised me they'd always be there for me and they-" He starts crying again. "And they died. But you- you are the only person I know who can keep that promise. And I need you to keep it even after I'm gone. I've worked too hard to make an impression and I know I made one on you so don't just THROW ME AWAY like I never mattered. I think about April and Mimi every day Mark. They exist in my heart even as it's stopping."
I start to cry.
"…So don't forget me. Just because I won't be there for you to care for doesn't mean you can stop caring."
"But Roger-" I sob, and wring my hands.
"No! No. You have nothing to say. I will be here for you as long as I can, and even when I'm gone I'll still be there. Always. Just like you were for me."
I can't handle this. I need to leave and be alone again. Because if I'm alone the only person I have to lose is myself.
I stand up to go, but ironically I find myself staying.
So I pace.
Roger watches me for a few minutes and then says quietly, "I'd really appreciate it of you stayed…"
There was so much underlying fear in his voice my legs instantly stiffened up and I resumed sitting at my post in the chair. I needed to speak, but in the end it could all go without saying. So I just sat with my legs pulled up to my chin and stared blankly out the window, and Roger set his jaw and looked down at his sheets. Neither of us said anything else, even when the nurse entered to refill Roger's pill container and check his monitor. But when it was just us two again, Roger spoke up.
"I still have more to talk about…"
Why did he think I was still sitting here?
"So talk!" I command. He sits up straight and looks at me askance.
"Don't rush me!" He growls. "It feels like you're pushing me, Mark! Pushing these words out of me so it can be all said and done. Stop it. …And stop handling this like I'm fearless. I can't just let it all out! I've never been fearless, ever since I got that damned note," More tears. "I've been fucking terrified! Knowing that each day my body is failing from the inside out. Sitting here, even now, I still can't get a grip! I can't just talk, Mark. Physically, it hurts to form words but it really hurts because I don't know what to say and I don't have enough time to say it! It seems there's never enough time for anybody! How is Collins doing? We never see him anymore! His life has been shattered by this plague too, but is it tangible for him yet? Has it shattered him from the inside? Why has he been spared? I'm jealous. Tell him that Mark. Those are my last words to him. I'm fucking jealous because he's still able-bodied. But then I can't…say that about him. Because he's been through what I have and he's just lucky… to be living- and- thank him. Thank him for all his philanthropic wisdom and all the bullshit he ever gave me about this. All his perverted reminders that I should just suck it up and keep hanging on. And for all his support and wake-up calls and breaks from this pestilence… Why can't he be here now? You- see? You're the only one Mark. What the fuck would I do without you? Ha! Take a second to look around at all my other friends that came to visit me tonight. I'm getting a little bit claustrophobic from all these bodies in here!"
Roger laughs, but it's a laugh I've never heard before. There's no joy, or even sarcasm in it.
"What would I do without Mark Cohen? I've been blessed with April and Mimi and…music…what a fucking ride my life has been! Thank God I got to drag you along with me! Hell, if I were you I'd be one heartless son of a bitch. If I found myself on a park bench with a needle in my arm I'd just shake my head in pity and walk away. But maybe it's good that I wasn't the one doing the walking… Like I said, I learned everything I needed to the hard way…" He laughs. "I guess I just had it rough."
He rolls up the sleeve of his hospital gown to show me a fresh bout of lesions and chuckles. "Really, really rough…"
I hand him a box of tissues, because I don't know what else to do. He takes one, but balls it up and holds it tightly. He's quiet for a minute.
"I fucked up." He snarls suddenly, hurling the tissue at the corner where the wall meets the ceiling. "I fucked up, okay? I'm sorry!" He cries.
Roger never believed in God. But I think he was talking to him now.
I look from Roger to the ceiling to the wrinkled Kleenex on the floor, but I keep my mouth shut.
"Mark," Roger yelps suddenly. "You gotta promise me you'll be alright." He looks at me again. "You still haven't promised."
"Roger, I can't promise. I can tell you that I'm already not alright!"
"Okay, then don't promise that. Maybe that's not what I mean. You have to promise that you'll except that I'm paying you back for being here, now and always. That you will listen when I say don't fucking forget me. Maybe it's just a weird thing with me- needing to leave a mark. But promise. Right now."
"How could you even ask that?" There is no sympathy in my voice. He looks taken aback.
"Roger! I promise you, from the very bottom of my heart- whatever will be left of it if you ever go- I will never, ever forget you. Why don't you already know this?"
"I do already know… I know you don't mean it when you say you'll want to put me out of your mind. I just… needed to hear you say it out loud."
"I'm sorry. I don't know. I don't know if I mean it. Do you need me to shout it? Do you want me to rip my fucking voice box out? This conversation's not getting anywhere! You realize how much I've done for you, and I wouldn't have done it if you didn't matter to me!"
"I know, I know! I'm sorry. Again, I'm sorry. But I just needed you to understand."
Understand. How is it that Roger twisted that around? –I stuck by Roger to understand.-
"But…I do…"
"I know. I know I know I know. You're here."
…And when you're dying in America, you're not alone…
I stand up again and Roger looks impotent.
But I shake my head and shoot him a scolding look, walking over to the cabinet where the nurses keep the spare blankets. I grab one and throw it around my shoulders, tucking myself back into the chair.
Roger sighs with relief and sits back against his pillow.
"Thank you." He whispers humbly.
I nod and stick out my chin. "Go to sleep. You gotta go to sleep."
He shudders and shoots me one last heedless glance before turning over. I reach up and switch off the light, but make no attempt to even close my eyes. I can't describe the feeling that hangs in the air, or give reasoning to why Roger would so quickly turn away. Maybe because he'd said all he needed to say, and he was giving me the chance to take it all in.
So I sit up and listen to the obscure and unsettling sounds of the hospital, pulling the blanket tighter around me and feeling so uneasy it's impossible to calm the furious beating of my heart. Maybe I was feeling what Roger was feeling- utter confusion- nothing and everything all at once. Paralyzed by my own fate.
I think Roger was still awake when I managed to find sleep, keeping true to his promise that he'd be there for me as long as he was able. He knew I never could fall asleep knowing he was unsafe. All those nights of his withdrawal, I'd sit up and wait until I was sure he was all right. Sometimes that would take till dawn; sometimes I'd go for days without sleeping.
It wasn't comfortable drifting off balled up in a hospital chair, but having him beside me, despite the atmosphere, quieted my unrest.
I'm not alone…