Title: A Thousand Words
Summary: She may be a drama queen, but that doesn't mean that she's completely self-obsessed. Maureen does more than a good deed. Title refers to what a picture says.
Notes: Takes place two or three months post-RENT. The least angsty installment, and probably one of my favorites.
"So the red roses represent love. Like, true love. You know, romance, and that sort of thing. Pink is like…love, but not as deep. Maybe more admiration? I don't know if that's the right word. Anyway." The teenager at the counter blushes, and Maureen impatiently waits for him to continue.
"Right. Um. Okay. Yellow's like friendship. Like, warmth and stuff. Lavender's infatuation, I guess. Or love at first sight. Adoration. You know. And orange is kind of weird, it can be a lot of things. Like, desire and romance. But it can also just be enthusiasm and excitement. It's kind of hard to explain."
"No, I get it," Maureen insists. She smiles again and enjoys the way his face turns red. It's nice to have this sort of power.
But still, she came here for answers. "What about white? What do white roses mean?"
"Oh, you don't want those." He shakes his head fervently.
"Why not?" Maureen's always been attracted to things she can't have; she'll be the first to admit that.
"Well, they can be used for weddings. And they can represent purity and innocence, too. But they're also used for funerals."
"Funerals?"
"Yeah. As a symbol of remembrance." He brushes shaggy brown hair out of his eyes. His hair looks a little greasy. He's definitely gone for the grunge fad.
"Hmm." Maureen raises a finger to her chin, taps it and thinks. "Well. She's a good friend, so I think I'll use yellow." She tilts her head to the right a little. "But, she's definitely all enthusiastic and stuff. Usually. And I know she'll like the way pink roses look. And she's always liked the color red…" She frowns, and quickly comes to a decision. "Okay. I think I'll just mix yellow and orange. And I'll tell her what they represent and all. Yeah, that's what I'll use. Yellow and orange." She nods decisively.
The boy at the counter nods earnestly, as if he had helped her work her way through the decision. "Okay, so, yellow and orange." He reaches over to grab them, and Maureen stops him.
"Oh, no, I'm sorry! I don't want to buy them! I just want to take a picture with them." She reaches into her bag and pulls out a Polaroid camera.
The kid looks a little startled, but he gets over it quickly. "Oh, um, okay. Sure. That's cool." He starts to move out of the way.
Maureen frowns again. This won't work. She turns to the kid again, and puts on one of her most charming smiles. "Do you think you could bring them out for me anyway?"
He looks startled again. "Uh, I don't know if I'm allowed to…"
"Please? Come on, no one's around. And you helped me go through all that roe symbolism stuff. You don't want to let this all be for a waste. Besides," She gives him the face, the one where her eyes look really big and pleading. "if you do this for me I will be a very satisfied customer."
That's the clincher, and the kid's a goner then. He grins goofily at her. "Okay. Sure." He turns around and pulls out a good amount of yellow and orange roses. "Do you want to just take a picture of them?" He asks her.
Maureen shakes her head vehemently. "No, I have to be in the picture. Will you take it?" She's already handing him the camera before she's finished the question, but it's not like he was going to refuse anyway.
She carefully gathers the roses in her hands, avoiding the thorns, and beams for the camera. "Say cheese," He mumbles, and clicks.
"Thanks!" Maureen tells him. She puts the roses down on the glass counter and takes the Polaroid camera and the picture that just emerged from it. She lays the unclear picture on the counter, a safe distance away from the roses, and tucks the camera back into her bag. Mark probably wouldn't be happy if anything happened to it. If he ever found out that she took it.
From her bag, Maureen pulls out a purple pen. She brings the still-developing photo closer to her, and in the white space underneath the actual picture, she scrawls yellow roses friendship. Orange roses excitement. Friendship, excitement, and Maureen all you ever need!
Satisfied with what she's written and with how the picture appears to be developing, Maureen tucks the pen back into her bag and the picture into an envelope that she's just produced from the same bag. She looks up to see the kid putting the roses back, trying to find a way to arrange them nicely. In order to accomplish his task, he's taken out a white and a red rose that he looks like he's about to put back.
"Wait," She tells him. He looks up, surprised. "Can I take a picture of those two flowers? They look really pretty," She says, when she notices the same surprised look still on his face.
He shrugs. "Sure. Do you, uh, want to be in the picture again?"
She shakes her head. "No, it's fine." It might not look as good without her, but she's not planning to give this picture out anyway. She quickly snaps a photo of the two flowers, crossed at the stems and lying on the glass counter. There's something about them that grabs her attention. She doesn't question why, just sticks this picture in her bag, away from the other one. She waves good-bye to the kid at the counter, who waves back shyly and blushes again. The sight of the blush makes her laugh appreciatively on her way out. It's nice to know she's still got it.
"So you want eat sushi?"
"No. I want to take a picture of me pretending to eat sushi." This isn't that hard to understand, so Maureen doesn't get why it's giving this waiter so much trouble. "I'm not going to eat the sushi. I'm not going to order the sushi. I just want a picture of me with the sushi."
"So you want sushi?"
"Yes. No. I mean, yes, I want the sushi, but I'm not eating it and I certainly hope that you don't expect me to pay for it!"
The waiter blinks and looks at Maureen again. It's obvious that he doesn't speak English very well, so Maureen doesn't want to yell at him. He's just a normal working-class citizen caught up in a web that he's not even aware of.
So she sighs, a long-suffering one, and asks as politely as she can, "May I please speak to your manager?"
The poor waiter nods and scampers off, and Maureen pretends to glance at the watch that Joanne gave her for her birthday. She's not really looking at the time, but she figures that it adds to the show for all the other customers in the restaurant. And they are definitely watching.
Maureen waits for a few seconds, and then decides to take a different approach. She stalks down the restaurant until she sees what she wants. "Ah! You have a California Roll!"
The people in question are a couple sitting across from each other in a booth, probably just a year or two Maureen's junior. Cute guy, cute girl, cute couple. Of course, they don't look so cute now. They look scared, with Maureen looming over them.
With that in mind, Maureen sits down next to the girl who has the sushi and explains her situation. First, though, she needs to take care of some other business. "Hello," She says, as brisk and Joanne-ish as she can be. "I'm Maureen. Maureen Johnson." She doesn't wait for them to introduce themselves before she plows on, loudly enough for all the people whispering and watching in the restaurant to hear. "I need to take a picture of me pretending to eat some California Roll sushi. Which, as I'm sure you know, you appear to be sharing. Would you mind if I borrowed it temporarily for this photograph?"
They stare at her. Maureen takes that as a yes.
"Thanks. Now you—" She rummages through her bag, pulls out her Polaroid, and hands it to the guy sitting across from her. "—take the picture. And you—" She turns to the girl beside her and plucks the fork out of her hand. "—scoot over just a little. This is more of a solo shoot," She explains.
She fixes her hair, adjusts her shirt, and smiles widely, one hand holding the fork over the sushi.
Click! And it's done. The guy appears to still be taken aback, but Maureen's used to that. Lots of people seem to have that reaction to her. She places the fork back into the girl's hand and takes the camera and her photo from the guy. "Thank you both so much," She said. "Again, Maureen Johnson. Look me up sometime if you ever want a good show." She winks at him, then at the girl too for good measure.
Maureen stands with as much dignity as possible and strides back towards the entrance of the restaurant, the clicking of her heels very noticeable against the tile floor. By this time the waiter has returned with his manager, who looks annoyed at being bothered. Before he can speak, Maureen raises a hand to cut him off.
"It's all taken care of," She tells him. She extends her hand anyway, and shakes his, and lets him know her name. "Maureen Johnson. Can't say it's been a pleasure, but I'm sure you know how it goes."
She shakes hand with the waiter too, and before she leaves, she turns to all those who are seated in the restaurant. "Maureen Johnson," She announces again, and waves once, before she walks out. Just in case.
Outside the restaurant, she pulls the just-taken picture out of the envelope. She leans against the wall of the building and quickly scribbles California Rolls. Your favorite—I remember.
"Oh, my God! You're an actual clown!" Maureen's been in New York for awhile and she's seen a lot of things, but she has never seen a clown just strolling through the streets. And it's a real clown, with big shoes, a red nose, pasty make-up, large clothes—the whole deal. This is too good for her to pass up. "Do a magic trick for me!"
The clown stares at her.
Maureen waits.
The clown stares more.
Maureen taps her foot and sighs. "Fine. Then at least make a balloon animal or something."
The clown shakes his head. "Cash?"
Maureen snorts. "Are you kidding me? You're not even working! Can't it be your good deed for the day?"
This time the clown laughs derisively. "Good deeds? Please. Good deeds don't pay the bills."
"It's not even for me. It's for my friend, she's in the hospital—"
"Yeah, right."
"Do you honestly think I would ask you for a balloon animal and make up a story about it?" Never mind the fact that she would. "You are one really screwed-up clown."
"Deal with it, lady."
"Fine. Forget you." Maureen pushes past him, pissed off. Weren't clowns supposed to be happy with making people smile? This one must have sucked at clown school.
"Hey—hey lady! Wait up!" She turns around and sees the clown running after her. He looks pretty ridiculous, shoving people aside and stepping on toes with those huge shoes.
Maureen's not exactly ready to forgive him yet. "What?"
He sighs, and takes off his hideous yellow-and-purple hat. "Were you serious about your friend being in the hospital?"
"Of course I was! Why would I joke about that?" Maureen glared at him. "She's been in there for a few days. I'm supposed to be with her right now."
"Okay. Well." He scratches the back of his head. "I'll make you a balloon animal. I mean, I'm not that good at them, but I'll try."
How can he not be good at making balloon animals? He's a clown! But Maureen decides instead to focus on the fact that he actually agreed to it. "Okay, great! Make a cat!"
He's already blowing up the balloons. Maureen watches as he twists and shapes a red one into a cat, and he's done within moments. He hands it to her and she nearly gives him a hug.
"Thank you! Now here, take a picture of me with it! No, wait…" Maureen stops a woman who's walking by leisurely. "Excuse me, will you take a picture of us?" The woman nods indifferently and takes the camera.
"Smile," Maureen instructs the clown. She picks up the red balloon cat and snakes an arm through the clown's. The woman clicks, the picture slides out of the Polaroid, and Maureen's pleased. "Thank you," She tells the woman as she takes the camera and the picture back. The camera goes into her bag, and she hands the cat back to the clown.
"Thanks," She tells him solemnly. "I really appreciate it."
"That's it?" He asks. "You don't even want to keep it?"
"Nope. Here, you can have it," She offers. He takes it and shrugs again.
"Strange lady," He mutters, and she hears it as she walks away but she doesn't care. She's too busy concentrating on the picture as it develops. It's forming nicely, with the cat sitting proudly between Maureen and the clown. Maureen smiles, and she ducks into a coffee shop just so that she can have a hard surface to place the picture upon so that she can write on it: Clown for a smile. Feline for a feline.
They look like some sort of sports team or something, all fifteen or so of them wearing the same blue jersey. They're probably high-schoolers, here for a tournament. They're definitely tourists, which either makes this easier or harder. Doesn't really matter which.
The point, Maureen notices, is that they all have the same blue face paint on.
She sidles up to a group of four of them. "Hi," She tells them.
She watches as they look at her appreciatively, apparently liking what they see (who could blame them?). They give each other unsure glances, until one of them steps forward, a confident sort of smile on his face. The ringleader.
"What are you guys here for?" She asks them. And if her hair manages to fall forward into a perfect position that catches the leader's eye, well then that's just pure luck.
"We're here for a hockey tournament," He tells her. He forces himself to keep his eyes trained on her eyes.
"Cool," She tells them, and they all nod along. "I'm Maureen. Can I ask you a favor?"
"Depends what it is," He says, and his little smirk gets bigger.
"Nothing too crazy," She tells him. "I mean, if you're up for it."
He shrugs, the picture of fake casual-nonchalance. "Yeah, sure, why not."
Maureen's grin gets a little bigger, too. "Well, you might have to take some clothes off."
They're all a little stunned at that, and Maureen uses the opportunity to continue. "I mean your hats, so that I could write something on your foreheads and take a picture of it." They recover quickly and all nod and whip their hats off.
Moments later, Maureen has blue face-paint on her fingers and has just finished drawing an I on the forehead of the last guy. She pulls over another guy and gets him to take a picture of the four of them, their foreheads spelling out M I M I and her beside the last guy, smiling broadly.
She thanks them after the picture's been taken, and starts placing the camera back in her bag, when the leader taps her on the shoulder. "Uh, could we get a picture with you, too?"
"Of course," She says sweetly. She stands in the middle of the four of them, and they all smile while another guy snaps the photo and looks at her wistfully. She gives them the picture before it's fully developed.
As she walks off, she takes out the picture that was just taken and writes carefully on the bottom of it: They don't have to know you to love you. She's about to put it away, and then she reconsiders and adds, (And me).
She takes one more picture, but this one's just of the subway and people in it. She writes, very simply below it, New York, because she's never known anyone who loves the city as much as Mimi does.
When she's done, she looks at the watch Joanne gave her (for real, this time) and curses to herself. She's later than she thought she'd be. But she can't be really upset, because she's actually quite proud of herself. She's pulled off this idea pretty well, and almost single-handedly.
Twenty minutes later, Maureen's at the hospital. She doesn't have to ask what room Mimi's in; Joanne told her yesterday. She can't keep the smile off her face when she thinks about the pictures and what it's going to be like when Mimi gets them.
When she gets to the door, she knocks once before entering. Mimi's in the bed, and Roger's sitting beside her in his usual spot. Joanne is standing on Mimi's other side, and Mark's standing beside Roger. Joanne frowns and marches over to her.
"Maureen," She hisses. "You're two hours late! Where have you been?"
"Don't worry about it, Pooki-"
"No, Maureen, this isn't the time for games. This is time to think about someone other than yourself!" She looks at Maureen and her eyes narrow. "You didn't even buy her the flowers!"
All through their conversation, Mark, Mimi, and Roger have been pretending not to listen, but Mark can't continue when Maureen starts to unload her bag. "Hey—isn't that my camera?"
"Yeah, I borrowed it for the afterno-"
"You were out all day taking pictures?!" Joanne is livid. Maureen ignores her because nothing she says is going to fix anything yet, and she pulls out the envelope that holds the pictures.
She pushes past Mark to take his spot and smiles at Mimi. "Hey, Mimi!"
Mark looks mildly annoyed, but he slides over and discreetly picks up his old camera. Mimi smiles back weakly. "Hey, Maureen."
"I brought something for you," Maureen says excitedly. "Well, more than something, but…you'll see. Here, look!" She shoves the envelope into Mimi's hands and waits.
Mimi pulls out the pictures with a slightly puzzled look on her face. Everyone leans over to look, and Mark says quietly, "They're just pictures of Maureen."
Maureen shakes her head fiercely, "No, they're not. Mimi, look."
And when Mimi does, the look of confusion on her face changes to one of awe when she sees the first picture of the yellow and orange roses. Her smile turns genuine as she reads Maureen's caption at the bottom. At the second one, the one in the restaurant, she gives Maureen a look of pure gratitude. At the third, Mimi laughs at the clown and ooh's at the balloon-animal cat. The fourth one makes Mimi laugh again, especially as she reads what's written below it. And at the fifth one Mimi's face positively lights up. She looks at it for a long while before she looks back up at Maureen again.
Maureen's still grinning. She can't help it; she knows she did well this time.
Mimi's grinning too, and reaching her arms out to give Maureen a hug. "Thank you," She whispers, and Maureen squeezes her in return. As she stands, Mark takes his spot back and Mimi begins to show the pictures to him and Roger.
Joanne slips over to where Maureen is and drapes an arm around her waist. "Maureen, I-"
But Maureen shushes her. For once, she doesn't need to hear Joanne's apology. She watches Mark, Mimi, and Roger point and exclaim over the pictures, she feels Joanne hold her a little tighter, and she's happy because she's made everyone else happy. She's done a pretty good job, if she does say so herself. And of course, she does. After all, she is Maureen Johnson.