Chapter Eight
I tried to get Roger to leave the house with me every day. It never worked. He was completely normal again...only he wouldn't leave. Collins brought over food, and I went out to get his prescriptions of AZT, and Roger sat in the loft all day. It was depressing. But otherwise, things were okay again.
Then came the fateful day in September, when Maureen arrived at the loft.
"Marky, baby...we need to talk,"she said immediately upon entering. I looked up from my film, and Roger from his breakfast.
"Okay. What about?"I asked. Maureen looked nervous. Maureen never looked nervous.
"We need to talk in private,"she declared, grabbing my hand and pulling me into me and Roger's room.
"Fine, I see how it is!"Roger called teasingly after us.
Once we were in my room, Maureen sat me down on the bed and closed the door.
"Maureen, what is this about?"I asked. I really had no clue. God, I was stupid.
"Pookie...this last year has been really great,"Maureen began. "I had so many good times with you, and you were just one of the sweetest boyfriends ever."
"But...?"I asked.
"But...well...I never see you any more. We haven't done anything in a while, and I've been getting really bored,"Maureen admitted.
"Well, I've been busy with Roger. But that can change now,"I insisted.
"No, Mark."I froze. She had used Mark. Not 'pookie', not 'Marky'. Just Mark. That was not a good sign. "Things have already changed. I've met someone new."
In those four words, Maureen caused my entire world to stop, then crash into a deep, black abyss. Ooh. Poetic...
"...w-what?"I asked, shocked.
"I've been seeing other people for a while, Mark. I couldn't help it! You were never around, and you know how I get,"Maureen defended herself.
"You cheated on me?"I demanded, shocked and hurt. Maureen nodded guiltily.
"Look Mark, I'm sorry. But I've found someone new. Someone really special. I think I've finally found the one."She said the last part in an excited whisper. I was still in shock.
"...you cheated on me and fell in love?"I cried.
"Mark, it's nothing personal, trust me. I just came to realize something about myself..." Maureen began.
"Oh, of course. The 'it's not you, it's me' talk. Great..."I groaned.
"No, really Mark. This is about me. I'm a lesbian."
Okay, at THAT one, I fell off the bed. Maureen gasped, running to my side.
"Oh my gosh, Mark, are you okay?"she asked. I pulled away, gawking at her.
"...YOU'RE DUMPING ME FOR A WOMAN?"I'm pretty sure everyone on Avenue B heard that. Maureen just shrugged.
"I can't help it, Mark. I like girls. You should really meet Joanne sometime though! She's great, and I think you'd really like her,"she insisted. "She's a lawyer, and she's wicked smart, and she makes all this money..."
"Maureen, why did you decide to tell me this now?"I asked, trying to move on from my near heart attack.
"Well...Joanne asked me to move in with her,"Maureen admitted.
"So you're moving out, too, huh?"I asked. Maureen nodded.
"Yeah. It's not too far though! It's just...in the richer part of town, ya know? Anyways, it's a great place, and we've been thinking about getting serious-"
"You've been with her long enough for things to get serious...and you're just dumping me now?"
"I really am sorry, pookie. I just didn't know how to tell you. I didn't want to make you upset during-"
"I'm not upset."I immediately stood up, brushing myself off. "It's fine. Whatever. Go off and...be a lesbian. Whatever you need to do."Maureen grinned, jumping up and hugging me.
"Oh, thank you so much Marky! I knew you'd understand!"she squealed. I didn't hug back. "Oh, and you're still my official production manager!"I rolled my eyes.
"Great..."I muttered.
Maureen ran out of my room, grabbing a few of her things from the coffee table.
"I'll be back tomorrow to pick up all my things. Thanks again Marky!"And Maureen was gone.
Roger looked curiously from the door to me, still standing at the entrance to our bedroom.
"What was that all about?"he asked.
"She dumped me,"I confessed.
"Aw man, that sucks. I'm sorry."
"Yeah...she found someone new."
"Who? Some guy from a protest?"
"No. A lawyer."
"A rich guy? What a bitch..."
"A lawyer named Joanne."
Roger stopped, staring at me for a moment, and registering what I had just said.
"Did...did you just say...?"I nodded. Roger's jaw dropped, and I could tell he was doing everything he could to stifle a laugh.
"Oh...oh wow...er...damn, that really sucks,"he said, trying to pass his laughter off as a cough. "Sorry Mark..."I sighed.
"Can't wait to tell Collins about this one..."Roger had to laugh a little at that.
"You'll never hear the end of this, you realize that?"
"Yup."
"But, uh...are you okay with things?"I nodded, lying blatantly.
"Yeah. I'm fine."Roger nodded.
"Okay."
"I think I'm gonna go...work on my script."And I walked into our room, closed the door, and began my moping session.
So Maureen moved out, and Roger and I finally got separate rooms. With Collins gone throughout the school year, it was mostly just the two of us. Roger still wouldn't leave, and I had started to give up. Maybe he never would. What could I do?
Maureen still kept in touch, as I was still her production manager. She would come by every now and then and call constantly, trying to get me to come out with her and Joanne. Roger and I had pretty much resorted to not answering the phone any more. And I never called her back.
Collins couldn't make it for Thanksgiving, so Roger and I sat inside and relentlessly mocked Christmas specials all day. I must say, it was pretty entertaining.
We hadn't actually talked to Benny since April(the month, not the person)But we had heard from him. Cyber-arts, a new digitial technology center, wanted to build a cyber-studio in the lot next door. And Benny, as our landlord, was backing it. Maureen was pissed, of course, and began setting up a whole new protest. I tried contacting Benny several times to talk about it, but he never called back, and we never saw him, except when he was 'collecting the rent' from the girl downstairs. He would go in for a while, and not come out until night. I had a feeling there might be a little more than rent-collecting going on. I mean, the girl was a dancer from that Cat Scratch club after all. That had been going on up until about three months earlier.
It was December 24th 1989 when I first took a look at all the footage I had collected over the last year. There wasn't much, considering I had spent 6 months inside with a junkie. But what there was...was absolute shit.
It wasn't artistic. It wasn't poetic. It wasn't symbolic. It was just...dumb. And pointless. I didn't know what I had been thinking. I doubted I even had been thinking. It was absolute, meaningless shit. And that made me pretty depressed.
I slumped over to the couch miserably, sitting down beside Roger, who had finally picked up his guitar again for the first time that morning. He had been playing Musetta's Waltz all day long. I mean, I was glad that he was playing again and everything, but couldn't he find a new song?
"Hey. What's wrong?"he asked, watching me carefully.
"Nothing,"I muttered.
"You look like you were just hit by a truck,"he commented.
"Roger Davis, never failing to boost your confidence just when you need it most,"I snapped sarcastically. He laughed.
"Seriously. What's going on?"he asked.
"I just watched all my footage from the past year,"I explained. "It was frighteningly bad."
"Oh come on. You're exaggerating."
"No, I'm really not. None of it makes any sense. It's all just...shit."
"Well, you have this year to improve."
"What if I can't improve? What if I'm just no good?"
"Mark, don't say that. You're the best filmmaker I know."
"...I'm the only filmmmaker you know."
"Yeah, well, if I knew others I'd still like you best!"I grinned over at Roger.
"You know, maybe you could come out with me while I filmed. Get some fresh air..."I hinted.
"I can get plenty of fresh air from the fire escape,"Roger replied. I sighed, nodding.
"Right..."I stood up. "Well, I'm gonna go out and try to get some actual inspiration."
"Good luck,"Roger called.
"Thanks. I'm gonna need it."
It was the first time I had brought my camera out without a script and several of my friends in tow. It was just me, the camera...and my thoughts.
I thought about a lot of things. I thought about Roger and Collins with AIDS. I thought about Maureen and Benny leaving for the richer life. I thought about our lack of heat, our lack of light, our lack of food. Life was pretty much shit. And I loved every minute of it.
What made living in this freezing bohemian hell so much better than living in warm, heated Scarsdale? Was it my freedom? The fact that I was finally able to concentrate on my art? The fact that none of my family currently knew exactly where I was?
It was all those things, I determined. This was just the life I was meant to live, the people I was meant to know, and the place I was meant to be in.
I realized that if I wanted to get a movie out of this, it couldn't be one that followed a script, or a plan. This life was haphazard, crazy, unexpected...so my movie had to be too. And the only way to capture that would be through a real-life account of it. A documentary.
I ran home and grabbed my camera, leaving Roger with his guitar. On my way down the stairs, I nearly ran into that dancer from the Cat Scratch I was in such a hurry. She was wandering around the stairwell with a candle...
Outside I ran past the lot where Maureen and her girlfriend were working on Maureen's latest protest against the Cyber-arts company.
I found a nickel on the sidewalk and tossed it to some young homeless guy sitting at the corner pounding on a bucket, who called 'Merry Christmas' to me as I ran by.
Collins would be home for Christmas that night, so I knew I couldn't stay out long. I ran quickly by a group of nasty looking thugs near a phone booth, and didn't even notice a rather familiar Range Rover drive by.
I found an old homeless guy on the street, sleeping peacefully, his breath puffing out before him...and began to film.
"December 24th, 9:00 P.M. Eastern Standard Time. From here on in, I shoot without a script..."
The Beginning