Disclaimer: Another Christmas has come and gone and, while I did get some amazing RENT clothing, I still do not have the rights to it.
Note: Sorry it took so long to update, I had computer problems...
Chapter Six: The Tango Maureen
As I walk towards my fateful meeting of Joanne, I can't help but wonder if Maureen will actually be there. While It's true I've never actually met Joanne, I think I hate her. On principle, of course. Still, I should probably warn her about Maureen and the importance of having good communication. Or maybe just the first one, I can't really be bothered to put in much effort for Maureen's new girlfriend. I remember when Maureen dumped me. It was right in this very performance space…
(The … means that I'm going to totally stall and have a flashback instead of going in and risking seeing my ex being cutesy with another girl and not me)
"Pookie?" I looked up at the sound of Maureen's voice. I couldn't really stand the nickname, but it WAS Maureen's special nickname for me, and so I tolerated it.
"Yes?" I asked. "Listen, I just rewired the amplifier, it'll be much louder now."
"Uh, that's great Marky, but we need to talk," Maureen was chewing on her bottom lip nervously.
"Oh my God, you're pregnant!" I stood up too quickly and banged my head on a table. "Ouch! How far along are you?"
"Um, I don't-"
"I'm going to be a father. My God, I don't think I'm ready for this!" I clutched at my heart. "We'll have to start looking for a daycare and planning for college and-"
"Mark!" Maureen interrupted. "You're not going to be a father!"
"So I'm not the father?" I couldn't believe it. I had always assumed that Maureen was more careful than that when she cheated on me.
"No, you're not the father because there isn't going to be a baby!"
"You're getting an abortion?" My eyes widened. "Murderer! You can't kill our child!"
"You're right; I can't kill our child because I'm not pregnant!" Maureen insisted.
"Are you sure?" I asked.
"Well, not 100 percent, there's always a chance, but that's not what I wanted to talk to you about."
"Then what is it, Maureen?"
"You remember Joanne, right?"
"Uh, no, doesn't ring a bell."
"That corporate lawyer I've been mooning over?"
"Ah, that," I waved my hand at her. "I can't possibly be expected to keep track of everyone you moon over."
"Fair point," she conceded. "But listen, it's just that she…I…I think we should take a break."
"Find by me," I readily agreed.
"Um, what?" Maureen looked as if this were not the reaction she was expecting.
"Sure, why not?" I shrugged. "I mean, I've been working for the past hour and a half."
"No, I mean, let's be friends," Maureen tried again.
"But we are friends, Mo. With benefits, remember? Since we were thirteen?"
"Yes, Marky, about that…"
"What?" I asked, hoping against hope that Maureen wasn't going to start talking about her 'feelings.'
"Well, it's been an AWFUL long time…"
"Oh God, did I forget our anniversary or something?"
Maureen considered. "Well, yes, actually, but-"
I slapped my forehead. "I knew it!"
"Wait, if you knew it, why did you forget?"
"Roger attacked our alarm clock this morning because it suddenly reminded him of Benny and I overslept."
"Well, what about the rest of the days this week?"
"Let's see," I ticked them off on my fingers. "Sunday it was our hot plate, I really need to go get another one, Monday it was our glass ceiling, Tuesday it was three coffee mugs, Wednesday your scale, and Thursday it was the toilet, but that was more the sheer amount of Benny's things Roger was disposing of."
"Your friend needs help," Maureen told me bluntly.
"Yeah, well, I'm working on it."
"Anyway, we're off topic," Maureen told me.
"What were we talking about again?" I asked.
"You know what, this isn't working. Here," Maureen thrust a copy of The Village Voice into my hands and stormed off.
I thumbed through it briefly. "Hey! You're dumping me? Through a magazine article? That is so not cool!"
(Well, yeah. Sadly enough that is how it happened and now I've run out of reasons to not go in, so I might as well get this over with.)
"Hi," I say as I go in. There are a couple of other people in there, just milling around. There's someone standing on the stage with his back to me and I address myself to him. "Maureen called me to try to come help fix the equipment."
The figure turns in surprise. "You're Mark?" SHE accuses.
I wince. Wow. Maureen dumps me for a lesbian and it's not even a feminine lesbian? That somehow just makes it worse…I mean, she's wearing a suit and tie and…SUSPENDERS and…
"Maureen said she'd be here," I manage to say lamely.
"Well, don't hold your breath," Joanne says bitterly. Wow, bitter after only a month of actually dating? Maureen's getting better at this whole manipulating thing, isn't she?
"This is so typical," I mutter. Still, I'm not sure why, because, thinking back, she never actually said she would. I just kind of assumed that she would. You know, because it's common courtesy. But then, since when has Maureen ever been held back by that?
"I told her not to call you," Joanne informed me, as though her shock that I was here and her non-stop glaring were not indication enough.
"Oh well-" Why is she surprised? She's known Maureen for at least three months now, been her girlfriend for a month, why doesn't she know that Maureen doesn't believe in listening? "Can I help anyway?" I mean, I did leave my nice, freezing apartment for this and am currently missing out on getting a chance to film some people with AIDS who may or not be homeless.
"I've hired an engineer." Who is currently not here. And given it's Christmas Day, I doubt you'll get any timely service. And I'm offering to work for free. Engineer's charge, like, 80 bucks just to show up. Wait, Ivy League Lawyer, I forgot. People like that don't have to make it quite so obvious that they have money to burn.
"Great. Well, nice to have met you then." I'll get your cell number from Maureen and will defer all of Roger's legal problems with stalkers and whatnot to you.
Just as I'm about to make good my escape…"WAIT!" I stop. Is it just me, or did the two or three other people suddenly just vanish? "He's three hours late."
I briefly consider making her beg, but decide, what the hell. It's Christmas. I put my stuff down and go over to the equipment. Before I can ask what the problem is, Joanne suddenly starts singing at me. Is that something she picked up from Maureen and assumed, just because I used to date her, that I held conversations in song, too? I mean, I do and all, but only with Roger and Maureen.
"The samples won't delay but the cable—"
"There's another way. Say something, anything-" Except for-
"Test, one, two, three," Joanne sings, looking incredibly bored. Wow, she interrupts my words AND thoughts. She's good. Well, I guess she'd have to be, in order to get a word in edgewise with Maureen.
I wince again. "Anything but…that."
"This is weird," Joanne tells me, like I don't already know that.
"It's weird," I agree. And really, I have more of a right to say that than she does, because I'm the ex in the situation, and she's the girl my girlfriend turned lesbian for.
"Very weird," Joanne reiterates, just to make conversation. I really don't need this.
"Fuckin' weird," I say, hoping to shock her by the use of obscenities from such a nice-looking Jewish boy.
She doesn't look particularly impressed. But then, Maureen swears like a sailor, so perhaps she'd expect that from her ex. She did suddenly storm off, however, singing, "I'm so mad that I don't know what to do. Fighting with microphones, freezing down to my bones, and to top it all off, I'm with you."
Yeah, yeah, great. Imagine how I feel. With the way she's been acting, I wonder just what Maureen has been telling her about me. And she could just quit. That's what I would do if I wasn't whipped, after all.
Well, you know what? Two can play at that game. "Feel like going insane? Got a fire in your brain? And you're thinking of drinking gasoline?" I ask her, heading down to where she is.
She stops and nods numbly. "As a matter of fact-"
"Honey, I know this act. It's called the Tango: Maureen." Then I really whip out the big arm motions. "The Tango: Maureen." Joanne jumped. Wow. This has got to be the first person I've met since arriving in NYC who doesn't engage in dramatic arm movements themselves, or at least are used to other people doing that. Wow, I wonder if this makes her 'normal.' Nah, Maureen'd never stoop that low.
"It's a dark dizzy merry-go-round. As she keeps you dangling…"
"You're wrong," Joanne tells me as she shakes her head and begins to walk away.
"Your heart she is mangling," I pantomime a Shakespearian actor getting stabbed.
"It's DIFFERENT with me," Joanne said through gritted teeth. Who's she trying to convince here, me or herself?
"And you toss and you turn, 'cause her cold eyes can burn, yet you yearn and you churn and rebound," I continue, persistently following her.
Abruptly, Joanne stops. "I think I know what you mean."
"The Tango: Maureen," we sing in unison.
"Has she ever pouted her lips and called you 'Pookie?'" Now, I can finally make some progress AND find out if Maureen calls other people her pet name for me.
"Never," Joanne shakes her head derisively, showing just what she thinks of that name, and starts to walk again.
Still I follow her, trying to act all knowledgeable when, in truth, I have no clue how she treats her. I only know how she treated me an I'm not sure if I want that to be how she treats Joanne or not. On the one hand, it would prove once and for all that it's not me, it's her, but on the other hand, Maureen was a really bad girlfriend, and I don't think I quite hate Joanne enough to wish that on her.
"Have you ever doubted a kiss or two?" There, that's generic enough to probably apply. Especially while it was still just an affair.
Still, Joanne looks very impressed and slightly creeped out. "This is spooky." Although whether this is because I know how my ex-girlfriend who I dated for half of my life tends to treat people or because she is beginning to suspect that I've been stalking her is hard to say.
Joanne stops again and turns to me, looking suddenly very insecure and like she has a few questions of her own. "Did you swoon when she walked through the door?"
I nodded. Of course. Like Maureen wouldn't have left and kept entering until I did. "Every time, so be cautious." Refusing to do that can be quite time-consuming.
"Did she moon over other boys?"
Hell, she mooned over you. Or does she not have a problem with Maureen's lesbian love interests, just as long as she is absolutely a lesbian, and not going through a 'phase', like her parents think. "More than moon."
"I'm getting nauseous." Hey, how does she think I felt when I found out Maureen was coming out of the closet? I mean, yes, I was incredibly turned on, and Roger stopped looking emo for a bit, but I was still slightly nauseous.
All this argue-singing about Maureen was getting me very worked up, so I threw my jacket to the side and raised my eyebrow at her. What now?
In turn, she raised her eyebrow at me and tossed her coat to the side, too, just not as far as mine, I couldn't help notice.
Then we randomly started tangoing. I opened my mouth to ask her why, but then I realized that she'd probably expect me to explain my dramatic arm movements to her. "Where'd you learn to tango?" I asked instead. Like I care.
She stops mid-dip and considers. "With the French ambassador's daughter in her dorm room at Miss Porter's. And you?"
I hesitate. "With…Nanette Himmelfarb, the rabbi's daughter…at the Scarsdale Jewish Community Center."
"Uh-huh," Joanne says, and then does some fancy leg-movements and suddenly, I am tangoing backwards.
"It's…hard to do this backwards," I said. And slightly demeaning.
"You should try it in heels," Joanne said, annoyed and full of women's-rights sentiment. Then she just drops me while she's dipping me and I hit my head.
When I open my eyes, I'm in a tuxedo and Joanne's in a little black dress and there are a bunch of couples also dressed up and we're in some sort of fancy dress hall. I wonder if I'm hallucin-Oh my, is that Maureen? She is wearing the hottest red dress and her hair looks amazing and I think I'm starting to drool. Oh, and now she's making out with her dance partner. Oh, and now she's moved on to another girl. New York City had been hope that Maureen never gets mono.
"She cheated!" Joanne sings, sounding appalled. She'll learn. This is nothing. Wait until she walks into the men's restroom at Denny's and…Oh, well, maybe the women's restroom for her.
"She cheated," I agreed.
"Maureen cheated." Still sounding so shocked. I'm guessing her last girlfriend was monogamous?
"Fuckin' cheated."
"I'm defeated, I should give up right now," Joanne confesses. Wow, and after only a month? Breaking someone in only a month is FAST. But then, Maureen's had lots of practice, hasn't she?
Still, since her sudden crisis of faith is mostly my fault, I suppose I should really try to fix this. If only so as not to ruin the protest, so as to annoy Benny. "Gotta look on the bright side with all of your might."
"I'd fall for her still, anyhow." Okay, great, now that we've established that, we're about done here. Oh, wait. Joanne wants to synchronize sing with me.
"When you're dancing her dance you don't stand a chance. Her grip of romance makes you fall."
"So you think 'might as well,'" I begin.
"'Dance a tango to hell'," Joanne finishes.
I think I hate her a lot less now that I know that she knows EXACTLY what Maureen put me through. "'At least I'll have tangoed at all," we sing. "The Tango: Maureen. Gotta dance till your diva is through. You pretend to believe her. 'Cause in the end you can't leave her." Really, I've tried. Unfortunately, however, she always started going down on me whenever I did…I wonder if she'll have to employ this technique on Joanne when this is all over.
"But the end it will come." After all, Maureen's attention span is simply not that long. "Still, you have to play dumb 'till you're glum and you bum and turn blue."
Oh God, now she's making out with more people. "Why do we love when she's mean?" I ask Joanne.
"And she can be so obscene," Joanne agreed. "My Maureen…" She sang, her voice echoing strangely.
"The Tango: Maureen…" We finish.
"Mark." Suddenly, I'm on the floor again, back at Maureen's performance space and Joanne, dressed in her boring lawyer outfit, is waving her hand in front of my face. "Mark. Oh, my God. Are you okay?"
If she's so concerned, perhaps she shouldn't have knocked me out in the first place. Either way, that was weird. I wonder if that's what taking drugs feels like? Must ask Collins, as I don't want to accidently tempt Roger. I can't take another half a year of withdrawal from him. Plus we actually have to pay for rehab.
"Actually," I say, smiling, as she helps me to my feet. "I feel great now."
"I feel lousy," Joanne muses as I go back up to Maureen's equipment. I look at it for about two seconds and then flip a switch.
"And we're patched."
"Thanks," Joanne says, sounding grateful, but slightly embarrassed that she couldn't figure out to flip one freaking switch.
Then, the phone rings. Joanne answers it. "Maureen?"
Funny, most people answer the phone 'hello.'
"Hi baby," I can hear Maureen's voice though the phone. Some people you can always here from the other end of the telephone and Maureen is one of them.
"Hi, honey, we're-" Joanne begins, but seeing as how she was just talking to me, someone who always lets other people have their turn to talk, she isn't quite fast enough to finish her sentence before Maureen interrupts her.
"Pookie." And there it is. Joanne just froze up and, I swear, it was the funniest thing.
" 'Pookie'?" She echoes, in shock. Man, I'm good. "You never called me pook-"
"We're late." Yet another interruption. It's almost as though Maureen doesn't actually care what anyone else has to say. And duh, of course they're late. We've both realized that. And I know it's polite to call when you're late, but it's more polite to do that BEFORE you've driven your girlfriend to the verge of insanity.
"Forget it. We're patched," Joanne said, apparently deciding that it's just not worth it to get into her issues with Maureen on the phone when she could hang up at any time until she's had time to practice some tongue-twisters or something.
"Thank you."
"Pookie," I say as Joanne hangs up.
"Shut up," she says, glaring at me and my awesome prediction skills of DOOM!
Just like, right now, I predict that Roger's new stalker won't let him get away with ignoring her invitation. Oh, no indeed…It's really a good thing I take my camera everywhere. I wouldn't want to miss any of this.
And whatever happened to that engineer?
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