Ok, it has been a while for me… but all this rentfic going up, I was inspired. These guys belong to J.Larson, I don't take any credit at all.
I lie on the table still. No one I know is around me, and for the first time since it happened, I can relax. Again, the irony that it takes a needle in my arm to make me relax isn't lost on me. I close my eyes tightly, and try to remember a time in my life when things weren't so complicated. Like a time machine, I move backward throughout the past few years of my life, seeing images, moving and still, of the drama and chaos that encircle my daily life. Flashes of my friends, fighting, making up, hospitals, funerals and lots of tears, though very few shed by me. Soon, the flashes move past my friends to my family and Scarsdale and high school. Truth told, my life has always been complicated.
But I was able to handle things before. Before I was old enough to really realize that life was complicated, I discovered my parent's old camera in the attic. My sister Cindy and I would film horror movies in the backyard, wasting hours a day. Even when we weren't making movies, I always had the camera, and I always had it on. So when my father came home and told us he had fallen in love with another woman, I already knew how to step aside and observe, and because I was forgotten, I got the whole thing on film.
I have hidden behind this small piece of machinery for almost ten years now. I have forgotten how to have confrontations. Standing to the side, capturing it on film, that is how I deal with the drama that is my life, or specifically, my friends lives. Because of the camera, I don't have to digest what is happening. I can stand by and observe, and later go back and watch it unfold, over and over again.
Except that Roger won't let me. He is the only one who never forgets me in the shadows. All the years I have known him, he has never put up with my bullshit. Even from the first day we met. I was walking through Greenwich Village, camera poised in front of me, not really paying attention to where I was going. I was looking down into the eyepiece when I walked straight into him. I still don't know why he didn't see me coming, but there I was, much smaller than this pierced, tattooed punk, stammering away apologies. He gave me a sharp shove into the wall and for a second I thought he was going to pound my ass. But he stopped short, fist mid-air, and he pulled away. He asked me what the fuck I was doing, and I stuttered away, like some poor imitation of Woody Allen. He told me to put the camera away and pay more attention to life. He has been telling me that ever since.
We didn't become close friends instantly after that. But a few days later, I was having coffee outside a café and he walked by. Again, I was looking down into the camera, filming some pigeons on the sidewalk. Suddenly a deep voice buzzed into my ear, "Didn't I tell you to put the camera away, filmboy?" I looked up and there he was and again I stumbled over some excuse and he just laughed and sat down. He introduced himself and started asking me questions about film and about myself. Our conversation came easy and before we realized it, the waitress was kicking us out of the table.
From then on, I don't really remember what happened, or how our little family grew so fast. I knew Benny from school, and he knew Collins from somewhere. Roger met April at a club, and Maureen was her best friend. Before long, there was little time that we weren't hanging out with each other, and soon we all moved into the loft.
A nurse interrupts my thoughts. She tells me I am all done, unhooks me from the needle and walks me over for some juice and cookies. I laugh at the coddling, but a bigger part of me really enjoys it. It keeps my mind off of why I am here. I take a deep breath as I leave the blood center and head back to Roger's room.
After all this time, after everything we have been through, I just cannot believe that Roger would resort to this. Attempting suicide… slitting his wrist… why would he? He hasn't answered any of our questions, or offered any explanations. I honestly haven't been asking, it has been Mimi and Collins who are trying to get answers. I just sit in the corner of the room and wait for him to talk. I know him, I know when we are alone he will share with me. More than he will share with Mimi, and I know that breaks her heart.
I step out of the elevator and I instantly hear someone call me. Collins. They are all sitting in the lobby, talking quietly. Maureen and Joanne have arrived and I am told that Benny is on his way. It is explained to me that Roger is talking with a psychiatrist, which is mandatory in all suicide attempt cases. I shake my head, Roger doesn't need a psychiatrist, he needs his friends, he needs me.
The shrink leaves his room and we all stand up to enter, but the nurse tells us one at a time. Mimi and I both step forward, oops. I sit back down and wait for my turn. Collins is pacing, Maureen and Joanne are whispering to each other, and again, no one is bothering with me. Finally after what seems like hours, Mimi comes out and I get a chance to talk to him.
I knock on the door, and he turns to look my way. He really doesn't look bad, his wrists are bandaged but that is all.
"Hey Mark." His voice is barely a whisper.
"Hey." I sit down next to the bed, not really sure what to say. "So, are you feeling ok?" Dumb question.
"Well, I could be better." He attempts at a joke and gives me a smile.
"You could be dead!" My voice raises higher than I expected it to. "What the fuck were you thinking? What is going on with you?" I stand up over the bed, waiting and demanding an answer.
"Mark, sit the fuck down. I don't need your shit." His voice is a little louder than before too. A nurse walks by and asks us if everything is all right. I tell her it is fine and she tells me not to upset him.
Still standing I say to him, a little more calmly, "Why did you do this? I need to know."
"For a lot of reasons, things you couldn't possibly understand."
I don't respond and wait for him to continue.
"I am just tired, and I am sick, and I know it is only going to get worse, and I don't want to go through it."
"Roger, you know you can fight this thing. You are really healthy, you are the healthiest out of the bunch."
He just shakes his head. "No, that is not what I mean, well it is, but it isn't."
"What do you mean then?"
"Never mind, don't worry about it, it will not happen again." He looks down at his bandages, "It fucking hurts."
"I bet. And I will worry about it. I can't believe you would do this, to me, to Mimi."
"I've already heard it from her, ok?" He closes his eyes and grimaces in pain.
"Well, there are a few more people outside waiting to make you listen to them too. You know how much we need you, why would you want to leave us?"
He shakes his head, "I'm done talking about this with you, ok? Just drop it Mark."
"Fine, fuck you then." I don't know exactly why, but that was my breaking point. I turn around and walk out of the room and head straight for the elevators. Collins comes running up to me while I am waiting.
"Mark, what happened?"
I just shake my head and savor the anger that is filling inside me. The elevator door opens and I step on. "I'm done, I can't take it anymore." The doors shut and Collins' frame is out of my sight.