Chapter Three

Mimi was pregnant. At the time, it seemed like a joyous occasion. Both Mimi and Roger were smiling, neither disturbed nor frightened of the situation there were now in.

What the fuck were they thinking?!

A baby. To be raised in a place where it parents barely support themselves. Fact in the fact that they are both HIV positive. Sure, I'd read in a magazine once that not all babies born to a HIV parent have the virus, but damn it, still, the odds were stacked against them.I stayed silent and managed to plaster a smile across my face. I had to. I don't explode. Mark's the stable one, and what's more stable then a family?

Fuck.

Inside, perhaps, I realized my feelings weren't completely rational. I mean, Roger's not the first person I'd picture as a father, but he's also not the last. He and Mimi relationship seemed to have settled into that comfortable "this might be forever" stage. But, the ever present but, with both of their unpredictable personalities it could change next week.

The baby would still be here.

Everyone else seemed ecstatic. Even Maureen jumped at the Mimi's news.
That surprised me a bit. During the time we were together, she had one pregnancy scare. She went as far as to buy the test. God, she was nervous. Pacing, and muttering things like "Jesus Christ, Mark, I can't be pregnant" and "we'd make such shitty parents." Children were not part of her plan. I'd never seen anything like it. She was so vulnerable. She was never like that; I was the vulnerable one, and she was in charge, her and her demanding ways, the ways that got me out of bed early to help her with another protest. She wasn't pregnant then and four months later our romantic relationship was history.

I filmed most of Mimi and Roger's joy, joking that with me around, their kid would be the most photogenic kid in New York.

It hit me a week later.

I wandered the city that, camera in hand, filming randomly, looking for inspiration in a city, that, at least in my eyes, lacked it. I ended up near a playground. Kids played.

I realized I was terrified.

I knew that someday I'd be one of the last ones left. That HIV, AIDS, would take Roger, Mimi, and Collins, just like it took Angel. Now, Roger and Mimi would bring a child into this world that could suffer the same fate.

And someone else I was close to would be gone.

When I was in third grade, my best friend, David, was absent from school. It seemed like no big deal, though I missed him at lunch time. As I walked home from school with Cindy, I talked about David and Cindy just stared at the ground, I didn't think anything of it. I was eight. She was twelve and doing weird things, like kissing boys. So what if she stared down at the ground?

My mother was sitting at the kitchen table when we got in. Strange, since her soap was on.

"Honey, I need to tell you something."

Her voice cracked.

At age eight I learned how hard it is to lose a friend. After that I told myself to not get close, to just observe, for it was easier to just watch then to feel.

Filming was such an easy way to hide. Of course, the detachment wasn't just a product of David - it was a combination of things: David, my parent's divorce, Cindy's elopement at nineteen, my failed relationship with my serious college girlfriend, my ever fleeting relationship with my dad. When I came to NYC, friendship was beginning to seem like a good idea again.

I had left Brown, medical school and my father behind. I knew Benny from there - we were roommates for a year. We were friends and I listened and participated in his ranting of a virtual interactive studio. However, I still held an air of distance. I don't think Benny ever noticed.

I still don't know how he convinced me to come to New York City. After all, New York was the state of some of the biggest failings of my life.

New York City was different. Before I knew it, the loft was home, I was ignoring my mother's constant phone calls, and I was introduced to Collins. We hit it off right away and had some great serious conversation about everything from current events to philosophy.

Roger arrived a month later.

We needed another roommate to cut costs, since none of us had steady jobs. Collins was trying for a teaching position, and Benny was spending a lot of time with the landlord's daughter Allison. I filmed, at the time naively believing I could get somewhere.

Roger needed a place to stay.

At first he and I clashed. He loved fast-paced life, parties, clubs, the world of a musician. I was slower paced, not really drinking, and veering away from loud and large places.

We never realized that we needed each other for balance. It changed the night I met Maureen. Roger was with a new girl - young and sweet, but with a seductive edge that even I was charmed by. Young she was, hell, April turned out to be seventeen when Roger first started seeing her. It was April who introduced me to a, as she put it, "wild-spirited friend."

I fell for Maureen the second I saw her.

I was such a sucker.

That's what Roger said the next morning when I walked out of my bedroom the next morning.

Coming from a person who hardly knew me, I was quick to defend myself. Maureen was great. At the time she was part of a life that I new little about. She was spontaneous and beautiful - and interested in me. I didn't have luck like that.

What started as a simple comment, escalated, until I backed away. I'm stupid. Roger was bigger then I was.

He started laughing.

"God, Mark, you're so easy," he had said.

After that, the ice was broken. We talked and saw we could use each other. I was his voice of reason, he was my push toward life. We meshed well, and I had a best friend again.

I still kick myself for not noticing right away that he was using. Fuck, it was right in front of me, but I was too wrapped up in Maureen at the time. I was in love with her, and let my emotions blind my judgment.

Never again.

Six months later, April was dead. The young vibrant girl whose smile could once cheer up the most depressed person, was dead.

And Roger was an addict. With HIV.

Distance crept back in.

You're always preaching not to be numb
When it's how you thrive

Sure, I helped Roger through withdrawal. Shortly after April's death, Collins gotten a position at MIT and was reluctant to take it.

I told him to. Said I could handle Roger. By that point I was physically holding Roger to the apartment, not allowing him a step outside, for fear that he'd be at his dealer before I could count to ten. I told Collins that the job was for his own good. Looking back, I was pushing away. He was sick. HIV. He got it before Roger, but it didn't seem real until Roger had it and April slit her wrist because of it.

I still saw blood in the bathroom whenever I walked in.

Maureen moved out. Maybe she sensed my distance, but I think it was the fact that had already caught her cheating six times. After the pregnancy scare, Maureen was even more scarce - she was spending more and more time with a friend she'd met, Joanne. I should have seen something coming - Maureen got bored easily. It made sense that she moved on from me to women.

Yeah right.

My life was crumbling beneath me.

But it had gotten better - that year that followed showed all of us a little more about life.

Mimi's pregnancy dragged up feelings I thought I'd gotten past.

"The past just buries itself," Cindy once me in the mist of her own failing marriage. It was during the one time I visited home for Thanksgiving. "You can't get away from it. It's like family. No matter what, it's still a part of you."

I never realized how true my sister's words were.



Chapter four coming soon . . .
Like it? Hate it? I am continuing this thing for nothing? Let me know :).