8/31/01 Update – I fixed the tense changes and grammar mistakes. I think it makes it a much better story. This is my favorite Rentfic piece that I've done, and now I finally feel it is complete.

The characters belong to Jonathan Larson.

I sort of got the inspiration for this story from a scene in the book American Skin by Don De Grazia, which is a very good book you should all go out and read. Please, write/review… I do for most of the stories I read, it is only fair!

Thanks and enjoy and review!

"Going Home"

I had been living in the loft for four months when Collins asked if his friend Roger could crash with us for a little while. The loft was already overcrowded with myself, Benny, Maureen and Collins, so we figured, what was one more body? I had met Roger one time before when Collins and I went to hear his band play. I didn't know much about him, but I knew I liked him. After his set, he joined Collins and me for a few drinks and the conversation was easy and fun. The three of us joked around and talked about music and movies and Roger and Collins had a philosophical conversation about Buddhism and Christianity, both topics out of my wealth of knowledge.

It only took one trip each to move Roger in. He had his guitar, some clothes, a few books and a lot of tapes. It surprised me when on further inspection the wide range of music he had. The Ramones sat next to Beethoven, The Clash next to Billie Holiday. As I was scrutinizing his tapes, he picked up my camera and tried to figure how to turn it on. The next thing I knew, I was being filmed upside-down and I stood up and grabbed my camera from him.

"Nope, the filmmaker never goes on film." I smiled at him, no one at the time knew about the long monologues I had with my camera. I turned the camera on, pointed it at him, and started narrating, something I only did for fun back then. "Welcome Roger to the loft. May he find the overcrowding, not necessary a loss of his privacy, but as many ears waiting to listen." He rolled his eyes and started unpacking his clothes.

"This may be the only time these clothes see the inside of a drawer, hope your not a neat freak, Cohen." He smirked at me, and I opened my arms up wide.

"Does this place look like I'm a neat freak? Not with four, uh five people living here."

Collins came over to us, "Benny is the only one who has a problem with that, so his corner is over there." He pointed to small section of the room where clothes have been ironed and folded. "I tend to stay away from there, the organization scares me." We all laughed. After that, we spent the day getting to know each other.

Roger and I clicked right away, but for the first few weeks, it was just superficial. We were hardly ever home at the same time, and he was dating this girl April, which none of us ever met. He spent a lot of time at her place and Maureen would comment on how he only needed a place for his shit. I think she was just bitter he never really paid much attention to her. She liked to flirt with us all, and I was the only one to really respond. Truth was, I had it bad for Maureen, and she knew it.

About a month after Roger moved in, I came home from doing some grocery shopping and found him sitting on the table playing his guitar. He looked so serious that I just skulked by and didn't say a word. I had finished putting the food away and was heading to the bedroom when I noticed the answering machine light on. I went over and played the message.

"Roger… it's your mother..." I looked up at him to see if he was listening, but he hardly flinched, "I think this is the last number you gave me… there have been so many… anyway, don't forget it is your father's birthday, he only lives in Queens, you should go see him… ok? Call me." I continued looking at Roger, who only shifted positions and still hadn't indicated if he heard anything.

"Your father lives in Queens?" He just nodded and continued strumming his guitar. I searched my memory back to any mention of Roger's father in the past, but I don't think we ever talked about our families. "Are you going to go see him?" He shook his head, still not looking up, but I could tell the message got to him. "Where does your mom live?"

"Look, Mark, I really don't want to talk about it, ok?" He leaned over on the table and grabbed his cigarettes and lighted one. I stood there dumbfounded, waiting for him to continue. "Look, my dad and I don't get along. We never have." He inhaled his cigarette and exhaled a think line of smoke and looked over at me, laughing, "I bet you get along great with your parents, huh?"

"Well my mom is overbearing, and my dad is an ass who left my mom for a 24 year old." I went over to the table, "This isn't the Breakfast Club, Roger, we don't have to play the 'who has the worst parents' game."

He smiled, "Well, I would win, no questions asked." He finished his cigarette, and looked down. "It is strange, knowing that he isn't that far, but we live such different lives." He jumped off the table and put his guitar back in its case, "Oh forget it, fuck him."

I raised my eyebrows at him, "Are you sure?" I had a feeling he wanted to go, but didn't want to admit it to himself.

"Yeah, I'm sure, look I'm going to shower," He disappeared into the bathroom and I went into the kitchen to get some food. By the time Roger had come out of the bathroom, I had forgotten about our conversation, but obviously he hadn't.

"Mark, do you got plans today?" He looked nervous.

I shrugged, "Not really, why?"

"Feel like going to Queens with me?" I turned to look at him, surprised by the turn of events.

"Yeah, sure, let's go." I snatched my coat and my camera and we left the loft and headed for the subway.

He insisted on paying for my fare, but then snuck himself under the turnstile. "I was never one for following rules," he said to me shrugging. We caught a train uptown and sat in silence. Since moving to the city, I hadn't left Manhattan, so I was excited to see a new part of New York. Roger was fidgeting with the zipper on his jacket, obviously nervous. "Look, maybe this was a bad idea, why don't we just get off at midtown and do something else."

"After we see your dad." I smiled at him, "You aren't getting off that easy." He nodded. We had to switch trains twice to get to our destination and we filled the time with small talk. Roger told me about April and I confessed my little crush on Maureen. He said that it was pretty obvious, and that Maureen was only going to break my heart. I just shrugged; I knew he spoke the truth.

When the train crossed into Queens, I finally asked him when was the last time he saw his father. "His birthday last year." He leaned his head against the side of the train, with his feet on the seat across from him. "It didn't go so well."

"Why, what happened."

He shrugged, "I'm willing to bet you will see for yourself." The train began to slow and Roger got up and nodded his head towards the door. I followed him out to the street and we walked in silence, while he smoked a cigarette. His father's neighborhood wasn't the best, and I felt very self-conscience and a little nervous, though I tried to act nonchalant in front of Roger. I followed him inside a building and up one flight of stairs. He hardly knocked on the door as he pushed it open.

"Dad, you home?" We stepped inside and the smell almost made me want to gag. The garbage was overflowing and one glance to the tiny kitchen made me turn my head. Roger found his father sleeping on a mattress on the floor, in just his underwear. I hung back, but stepped away from the kitchen, trying to block the stench. "Dad, get up and get dressed, you have company." His father turned around mumbling and then recognized Roger. He sat up.

"Finally came to see your old man."

"Yeah, Happy Birthday. Now get up and get dressed." He walked out to the other room and back over to me. "I should have warned you, I'm sorry."
I gave him a smile, "It's fine, really."

"It's disgusting and so is he." As if on cue his father came out, his idea of getting dressed, throwing on a button up shirt and not buttoning it. "Dad, this is my roommate, Mark."

He didn't acknowledge me, "Got a cigarette, Roger?" Roger nodded and tossed him a new pack. "So what brings you here?"

"Just came to see you for your birthday." I finally let myself take a look at Roger's father. He was balding, but at the same time, in badly need of a haircut. He had the same stone-blue eyes as Roger, but the look in them was different. If I wasn't so nervous, I would have let myself laugh at the situation, it seemed so After-School Special. But this wasn't, it was Roger's father, and I knew that he was revealing a lot to me by asking me to come here. "Where's Phyllis?"

"Oh, I threw the bitch out a long time ago." He went over and grabbed a beer and offered one to each of us, I shook my head no, but Roger took one. "You know how it is, she was always complaining about something." He went over to the couch, and sat and motioned for us to do the same. I found a clear spot against the wall and leaned against it. I silently debated if I should turn my camera on, but decided against it.

"So… are you working?" I could tell that Roger was searching for something to say, but not finding the words.

"Yeah, you know, once in a while. How about you, still wasting time playing with your band."
"Yup, still wasting my time. God forbid, I get a real job and disappoint my father."

The sarcasm is lost on his dad, but I can't help crack a smile. That is when he noticed me for the first time, "So what's your story?"

I shrugged and tried to disappear into the wall. "Leave him alone dad, he just came for the ride with me." Roger lit a cigarette and drank from his beer.

His father got a sly look on his face, "You like my son, don't you? You want to fuck him, don't you?" He got up and stepped towards me as I tried to step further into the wall. "Well he doesn't go that way," he turned to Roger, "or do you?"

"Dad, shut the fuck up, ok?"

His dad turned toward him and laughed, "Shit, I'm just kidding, you used to be able to take a joke, what happened?" Roger just shrugged and I finally let myself relax away from the wall. Just then the front door opened and a small man stepped in, but seeing us he stopped short. "Mike, come on in." His father welcomed the newcomer. "This is my son, Roger, and his friend, Matt."
"Mark." I corrected but neither heard me. Mike came further in and started laughing.

"Your son? Christ, Paulie, I never expected that."

Roger stood up, "Yeah well, I talk about him just as much." He walked over to me, "You ready?" I nodded, wanting to get out of there.

"No, Roger, stay, Mike and I have just had a little business to take care of. I'll be right back." Shit, what kind of business. I knew I didn't want to stick around to find out.

"Roger, I really need to get back." I said with urgency, though we both know it wasn't true. He concurred but remained still. His father came back to the room and handed Mike a small roll of bills and then Mike reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a brown lunch bag. With that, Mike pocketed the money and left.

"What you got there, Dad?" Roger went over and reached out for the bag.

"Nothing, don't worry about it." Paul snatched the bag away, and stepped away from Roger.

"I thought you stopped all that shit a long time ago." I went back to wishing I could hide in the wall again. I started thinking about Maureen and how I was wished I were anywhere else in the world.

"Look, you little shit, I don't need to explain anything to you, ok? Just get out of here, and don't worry about coming back."

Roger shook his head. "If mom knew you were using again…. I don't know why she wanted me to come see you."

"Oh is that why I got the pleasure of your company today? Your mommy made you?" He stepped toward Roger and pushed him. Roger kept his hands by his side and didn't react.

"Yeah, mommy made me. You remember her, right? Your ex-wife that left you because you are a junkie?" His father pushed him harder, and this time against the wall. Still, Roger didn't react.

"At least I'm not some street punk who thinks he knows everything."

"Oh good one, Dad, really." Their noses were practically touching, but even from my point of view, I could see the fire in Roger's eyes. I had never seen that look before, though later on I would come to recognize it as a danger sign.

His father pushed him one more time into the wall, and I saw Roger's hands form into fists.

"Roger, let's go, ok?" I took a step towards them, but they both ignore me.

"Is that all you got, old man?" Shit, I thought, now he was egging him on, this needed to stop. I walked towards them and grabbed Roger's arm and pulled, but his already tensed body just shook me off. His father turned to me and laughed.

"I think your boyfriend wants to go." He stepped away from Roger, "Don't want to keep the ladies waiting, right?"

Roger looked at the two of us and charged out of the door and I followed him, bolting down the steps in order to catch up. He was walking fast and furious, only stopping to light a cigarette. We didn't speak until we were on the train.

"Don't tell anyone about my dad, ok?" He looked at me with all his sincerity. I just nodded. "I'd have to kick your ass if you do."

I smiled at him, "No problem." We remained quiet for a few more minutes until I spoke up. "How long has your father…" I was afraid to finish the sentence.

"Been a junkie?" Roger finished it for me, "Since I was a little kid, I don't really remember. My mom kicked him out when I was ten, I didn't really understand why. She wouldn't let me go see him, but I used to lie to her and say I was going to a friend's house. I'd take the train in," He stopped and looked at me, "We used to live in Newark." I chuckled a little and he continued, "I would take the train in and see him. He would shoot up right in front of me. He got clean about five years ago, but by that point, I had nothing to say to him." He shifted in his seat, "I mean I graduated from high school, and he missed everything, you know? I grew up, what the hell did I need him for anymore?" He stared out the window. "God, I hate that shit. April uses it too." I was shocked, but I tried to hide my surprise from him and let him continue. "I have tried to get her to stop, but she won't. She won't admit she has a problem. I'm not going to leave her though. That is what my mom did to my dad, and it didn't help him."

I was dumbfounded and searched for words to comfort him, but I had none. "How… how long has April been using?"

He shrugged, "On and off for a few years I guess. An ex-boyfriend got her into it, and she wasn't using when I met her. I don't know exactly when she started again, she tried to hide it from me." He took a deep breath and looked at me, "I love her too much to let her go."

"Yeah, but maybe it will get her to stop."

"This is the real world Mark, she won't stop until she is ready to. Just look at my dad." We remained silent for the rest of the way home. Just when we were about to get off the train, he reached out to me, "Thanks for coming, it was a lot easier having a friend with me." I smiled and nodded, as I gripped my camera.

After that day, the dynamics of Roger's relationship with me changed. We suddenly had an unspoken secret that no one else in the loft knew about. They noticed the sudden closeness that we shared; it was pretty obvious. Any spare moment we had, we were hanging out together. He had decided he wanted to help me get Maureen, and I was pretty willing to let him. I finally met April a week after our trip to Queens. I tried to keep an open mind about her, but couldn't let myself forget that she was a junkie. I understood what Roger saw in her, she was gorgeous and sexy and full of life. Her eyes told a very different story though. They spoke of danger to me. I remembered Roger telling me that Maureen was just going to break my heart, but I could see April was going to break Roger's spirit.