He looks at me and I panic.  I don't know what to do, or why I said that.  The words flew out of my mouth; I didn't have any control over them.  With a few seconds of remorse, I back away a few steps, keeping my eyes on him, watching his expression remain.  My defenses begin to rise again when he races towards me, placing his hands against my chest to push me; I grabbed his arm and hold tight.

            "Are you done, tough guy?"  I grimace, he nods, turning red and not looking at me.  "Look, I didn't mean it, ok?"  Again he nodded.  I let go of his arm and push him away in the same movement, causing him to lose balance and almost falling.  He takes hold of his arm and looks at me.

            "What the hell, Roger?  Why the hell would you say something like that?"  He straightens his glasses and goes back to caressing his arm. 

            "I said I didn't mean it."  I go over and take his arm gently.  Where my grip was, has now turned red against his pale skin.  "I'm sorry, I didn't mean…" He rips his arm away.

            "Roger, why did you say that, and I don't buy that bullshit that you didn't mean it.  You said it, which means you must have thought about it."

            "No, I haven't, I swear."  Not consciously anyway, maybe in the back of my mind.   I haven't allowed letting myself think about getting high, all those times I fought with Mimi about it, I never really considered doing it myself.  Even that first night she and I met, when she tempted me with her stash, I only thought about it for a split second.  But that small fraction of time I have dwelled.  How easy would it be for me to go back?  All it would take is a sexy woman in tight clothes?  Then I remember, I didn't take her up on her offer, I threw the stash back at her, and I forced her out the door.  Not because I was afraid to get involved with her, but because Mimi knew my weakness, and the look she gave me as she waved that bag in front of me was the same one April used to give me all the time when she scored.  I felt powerless and vulnerable, and mad that I was letting her get to me. 

            "Roger, I don't believe you, how could you not think of it?"  Mark's face is so full of compassion and understanding, I wonder if he was reading my mind.

            "Let's not talk about it anymore, ok?  I can't deal."  I pick up my Fender and start tuning it.  Mark picks up his camera and points it towards me.

            "Zoom in on the songwriter, hiding behind his guitar."

            I look up and snarl at the camera, "You're one to talk Mr. Cameraman.  Why don't you come out from behind the camera?"

            "Nah, then I would have to actually talk to people."  He smirks at me, as he turns the camera off and brings it down to his side.  "Seriously Roger, I'm worried about you.  You…"

            "…Mark, you're always worried about me, that is what you do best."  I strum a chord and look up, "Don't, I'm fine."

            "If you are so fine, then why did you say that?"

            "To piss you off?"  He sits down next to me, waiting for a real answer.  "I don't know why I said it, honestly.  I really have no desire, though sometimes the need is still there."  He looks at me with a panicked expression.  "I won't, don't worry.  After Mimi and April, I have no desire to go near the stuff."  He nods at he rewinds his film. Mimi and I broke up for good a few months ago.  That is, unless of course, she decides to stop using. 

            "You can't scare me like anymore, ok?  I don't think I could go through it again."

            "I know, Mark, I'm sorry.  Is your arm ok?"

            "Yeah, it's fine, let's just get back to work."  He goes back to his camera and I pick up my guitar.  I'm not really concentrating on what I am doing but thinking about things.  I really appreciate Mark now, more that I ever did before.  I am sure when I was using, he was feeling just as helpless as I did with Mimi.  Watching someone you care about destroy themselves is frustrating and exhausting and makes you feel powerless.  Mark is stronger than I ever gave him credit for, because he never let me see him hurting, though I know he did.  He allowed me to make the decision to get clean on my own, offering no ultimatum, but instead a decision.  After April died, he told me he would be there for me whenever I needed him, but I couldn't go near him again when I was high.  The way he said it though, it didn't seem like 'me or the drugs' but more 'I'll be here when you are ready.' 

            "Hey Roger, you want to see some footage I got the other day?"  Mark is setting up the projector and turning off the lights, not leaving me much of a choice.  "I just cut it together this morning, just some people in the park, a little of you, I don't know if I'm happy with it or not."  He turns the projector on, and I sit with my guitar on my lap watching the images flash against the wall.  The film work isn't his best, seems a little shaky and out of focus.  He starts going on about how he was trying a new technique; closing his eyes and just letting the camera take in what it would.  The frame focuses in and out, and suddenly an image grabs my attention. 

            "Mark, hold up, stop the film for a second." He does and rewinds it a bit.  Again the image goes by too quick to make it out for sure.  "That's Mimi, walking by."  I say it matter of fact.  I could recognize her even on an out-of-focus shaky film.  Mark doesn't believe me and rewinds and watches again. 

            "Wow, how did I miss her?"  Mark says, stopping the reel so it is frozen on the still of her.  He looks at me and sees me staring at the image and shuts off the film.  "Roger, I'm sorry, I didn't even realize she was there.  Too busy closing my eyes I guess."

            "It's fine, Mark, really."  I put the guitar down and get off the table.  "I mean, I know she's out there somewhere, I don't know why I am so surprised."  Still, seeing that, knowing that she is close drives me crazy.  I start pacing the floor, not able to stop thinking and worrying about her.

            "Just go, Roger."  Mark's voice interrupts me.  "You need to give it one last shot."

            "I… I can't.  She knows where to find me if she wants help.  At least I know she is ok, right?"

            "No, what you know is that she is alive, my crappy film doesn't tell you if she is ok."  He walks over towards me, "I miss her too."

            He doesn't have to say another word; I grab my jacket and head out the door.