The Ruins of Our Lives Chapter 8

A/N: This chapter starts the day after Randy and Mark leave Detroit. And I'll forewarn everyone, I don't think this is a very good chapter. In fact, I borderline hate this chapter. Well, not necesarily the chapter, but more the premise. The only reason I'm posting it is because I feel that it's a necessary chapter. (And I think that people would probably be angry if I didn't let them know where Mark goes).

-Yours truly, Randy Taylor

Mark's POV

I wonder where Randy is right now. Maybe there will be some coincidence and we'll end up in the same town or something like that.

Right now Wilson's friend Willie David is taking me to Boston. I'm not sure what I'll do when we get there, but at least I'll be out of Detroit.

Willie's already told me I'll have to pretend to be his nephew, Taylor David, once we get there.

He (Willie) looks nice. He's maybe 50-55, he has grey hair, and Wilson says he's a mechanic.

So far we've spent most of the ride in silence, just listening to the radio. The only time Willie has said anything about the music is when the radio station played "Macarena".

I wish Randy would've let me go with him, it would make leaving Michigan a lot easier for both me and him.

'Mark, we'll stop at a gas station a few miles up ahead, and you can call Wilson if you want' Willie says to me.

'Okay' I reply.

Uh-oh. Macarena is playing on the radio again.

'You can't tell me these people were in their right mind when they recorded this song' says Willie, eyeing the radio in disgust.

I just laugh. I'm not sure if he's really this funny all the time, or if he's just trying to make the move easier on me. Or maybe it's a combination of both.

As we pull up to the gas station, I fight the urge to get out and start doing the Macarena. We both go inside, do our business, then I find some change for the payphone. I dial Wilson's number, but get a message saying that the number's wrong.

'Area code' I mumble.

I dial the area code for Detroit, then Wilson's number. This time I'm successful.

'Heidi ho unidentified user of the typically tacky toned, tongue-twisting telephone' Wilson answers. That makes absolutely no sense, but this is Wilson.

'Hi Wilson' I answer chuckling.

'Mark. How are you?' he asks.

'I'm okay. We're stopped at a gas station in Kentucky' I say.

'Have you heard anything out of Randy?' I ask.

'No, I haven't' replies Wilson.

'What about mom?' I inquire.

'No' Wilson says again.

'I'm not really surprised. I didn't figure you would' I lie. I had hoped she would be worried a little bit.

A Week Later

Mark's POV

Boston is such a beautiful city. I still miss being in Detroit, but I try not to think about that.

Willie has me registered at a school near his house, even though I insisted that I could lie about my age and get a job. I'm sure Randy has a job wherever he is. Even though I'm pretty sure I shouldn't be, I am so jealous of Randy right now. I mean, he has a car of his own, he can do what he wants, and he's probably even having fun with this whole thing.

I must sound like I hate Randy, but I don't. I just hate the fact that he wouldn't take me with him. His reasoning was perfectly logical though. He's going to have a hard enough time supporting himself, let alone trying to take care of someone else. And he figures that if mom somehow finds him, he won't have to worry about me being caught too.

'M-, I mean Taylor, I'm leaving to go to work now. I'll be home for lunch around 12:30 or so' Willie says. I've almost slipped up a couple of times and called myself Mark.

'Okay. See you then' I respond.

Finally I'll be able to have some time alone. Willie's great, but he's being kind of overbearing.

I sit down on the couch and turn on the TV. I don't find anything else, so out of desperation, I put it on Regis and Kathie Lee.

After a few minutes, it switches from Regis and Kathie Lee to The View. I decide I'm not that desperate, and turn the TV off. I walk into the kitchen, and open the refrigerator. Not a whole lot inside. Some orange juice, mayonnaise, cheese, bologna, butterscotch pudding, and a gallon of milk. I take out the juice, and start searching cabinets to find a glass. Damn it Willie, why didn't you tell me where things were at in this house? Eventually I find a glass, and take it over to the counter.

After pouring a glass of juice, I take it outside and sit on the steps of his apartment. Under other circumstances, I would love to live in Boston.

I wish mom was here. My real mom, not the woman who is a constantly drunk alcoholic. Unfortunately, now I have to just pretend that no one in Detroit ever even existed.

A/N: First off, before I start getting flamed, let me state that I think the Macarena is a great song.

Anyways, I wrote this chapter because I figured everyone would want to know how things went for Mark. Next chapter I'll be back to Randy.

As always, please read and review if you want more chapters. I really do appreciate getting reviews. (Even bad ones).

-Yours truly, Randy Taylor