"Late?" He stammers. "You're late?"
She doesn't speak, just sits, her nose running, tears slipping off of her cheeks. A shaky hand reaches up and brushes the wetness away.
"Late. You're fucking late." His fists clench and unclench, clench and unclench. "How is that possible?"
"Don't dump this on me," she spats. "I didn't impregnate myself. You asked what was wrong. I wasn't going to say anything."
He whips around and stares at her, anger painting red in his face. She's staring back, tear stained face just as fierce as his. Her green eyes that usually dance with life are clouded and dark, angry, upset.
"Not say anything? Just pop out the kid and not tell me? Oh, Roger, by the way… what the fuck were you thinking?"
"Oh, so it's automatically yours?"
His face drops, paling quickly and his knees feel like Jell-O. "It's not?"
Her jaw clenches. "Of course it is."
Roger lets himself sink onto the ground beside her. "You weren't going to tell me."
"There's a clinic, downtown," she talks over him, staring down at her hands.
"You're gonna-"
"We can't raise this," she cuts him off, voice raising slightly. "Do you see where we live? What money we're making? We live off of coffee and cereal. What kind of life is that?"
Roger's mouth clamps down, he bites his tongue, tastes the blood and swallows hard. "I can get a second job."
"Roger."
"Benny's in line for a raise."
"Roger."
He climbs over to her, sits in front of her, reaches into her lap and holds her hands. "We can move. We can leave the city. I'll get a good job."
"Roger." Her voice is firm. "We can't leave. I won't have you give up performing. Benny can't take care of us. We can't leave."
"We'll get married." He talks as if what she's said is irrelevant, as if he hasn't heard her.
She laughs. It's sad, sardonic, sarcastic, but it's a laugh. Maybe she's thinking about it.
"You don't want to marry me."
"How do you know?"
"You don't. I'm no good for you. And what about Mark?"
Roger knows it would kill Mark if they both left. Hell, it was killing him that his best friend was fucking the love of his life. What would happen if Roger actually loved Maureen? But Roger wants to be selfish. This is the perfect opportunity.
"Maureen, I love you."
That huge lump climbs into her throat and she tries to swallow it but it won't go away. She blinks furiously as tears build on her eyelashes and she stares up at the ceiling, avoiding his brilliant green eyes, the ones that are pleading with her, telling her he loves her, waiting for her to say something. But she doesn't.
"Well?"
"Well what?" she sniffles, pulling her hands from his and she buries her face in them. "What do you want me to say?"
"How about you love me, too?" He frowns slightly, hands on her knees when it comes to him that maybe she doesn't. Maybe he's the easy fuck, just fun for her, a boy toy she hadn't meant to become attached to and this baby, this is a death sentence for her.
"Christ Roger," she murmurs, taking a shaky breath. Her hands fall down, back into his and her lip quivers. "You know I do. I just… love you. I don't know why, but I do."
A smile cracks his lip and a thick calloused thumb swipes across her soft cheek. Her head leans into his touch and he cups her face as she closes her eyes. His scratchy chin rubs against hers as his lips press against hers.
"We shouldn't be…"
"I know," he replies, staring into her eyes. "But we are."
"What are we gonna do?" she asks, covering his hands with her own.
He presses his forehead against hers and sighs. "I dunno. But I promise, everything will be okay, baby. Everything will be okay."