He’s never even given Mark that much, he thinks. Mark doesn’t get a song.
The Truth
PG-13
Mark Cohen/Roger Davis
It’s pretty stream of conscious and it needs some work but let me know what you guys think, yeah?
Sometimes Roger is almost glad that April killed herself. Sure, he’s bitter at having to go through a year of withdrawal and being HIV positive alone but he knows it wasn’t her fault and he knows he was never really alone. Those are two things Roger will never tell Mark. One) that April didn’t give him AIDS from sharing needles and two) that when he is around Roger actually doesn’t feel alone. The first thing is why he felt relief and then extreme guilt more than anything akin to grief at the discovery of her suicide. He’d never have to look her in the eyes and tell her he’d gotten them sick. She’d managed to figure it out on her own before he even could. He’d never have to hold her and nurse her, the way Mark did for him, which works out because he’s not strong enough to hold himself together let alone to have held April together for the past twenty-four months.
Everyone, and Roger finds this bitterly hilarious since he himself has never said anything one way or the other, assumed after April’s death that it had been her doing. That Roger had been caught up in her high and her rock and roll beauty and she’d ultimately gotten him sick. This is about one-fourth true. Roger did get caught up in the rock and roll lifestyle. How could any guy resist it when it’s calling his name and curling its finger at him? But it wasn’t the drugs that killed him. Oh, no. Not the drugs and not April. He’d killed April; he’d been sure. He’d killed her just as surely as if he’d been the razor sliding along her wrists. He couldn’t be more at fault if he’d stood behind her, held her hands up and helped her write her bloody last goodbye on the bathroom mirror. “Thanks for all the good times, Roger. See you in hell.” When Mark tells the story though, he makes it seem like Roger is a victim of some wild and reckless girlfriend gone by. When Mark tells the story, which is every time it’s told at all, April is the seductive villain-wolf and he, a lamb with a guitar, brought to rock and roll slaughter in the big city.
Even Mark has assumed a truth. The truth is Roger got fucked without a condom. Roger was an idiot and high out of his mind and he let the drugs be his Jiminy Cricket while his heart was too busy pumping every red blood cell in his body through every vein and capillary until there was nothing left under his skin but the dirt and grime he always felt there. He’d arched his back against CBGB’s back alley wall and let some fucker with HIV give him a one way ticket to faded glory. He’d been high. He’d come home and for a second, one split eternal life changing second, he’d considered going in to see Mark. He’d considered standing inside the new kid’s doorframe until he let Roger come all over his pretty blonde face. Instead, he’d turned around and fucked April that same night. She was home already anyway and what was the point of bothering Mark when his girlfriend was always willing? They’d never used a condom.
Now April is dead and as far as Roger’s concerned no one will ever know why. Especially not Mark. Not because Roger doesn’t trust him and not because Roger particularly cares about protecting him but for all he knows, maybe Mark already knows. Maybe April told him before she copped out of the life she left Roger with. He loved her. He really had and for a long time he’d been convinced that her suicide was his fault. He knows now he couldn’t have stopped her. The drugs were a slower form of it all but bleeding to death had only been like fast-forwarding a tape that was playing to the finale anyways. April always did have a flair for the dramatic, which is why Roger finds it funny when people label Maureen as the “drama queen.” He’s pretty sure he’s never seen Maureen high on smack and throwing furniture out the closed windows of a third story loft. He’s pretty sure Maureen loves herself way too much to ever cause herself any harm. April was no actress but she embodied drama better than Maureen could ever dream of.
Roger thinks being glad April killed herself is sick but he also thinks that sick is sort of relative when life’s only really one big cycle. She’d encouraged him because sometimes they were low on cash and sometimes dealers didn’t like April’s pussy so much as they liked Roger’s mouth. Another thing Mark will never know and why should he? It’s between Roger and April. It had been April all along. April got him hooked on the drugs that made him fuck bareback in back alleys that gave him the death sentence that he passed back to April. April and not Mark, thank whatever fucking deity might actually be up there that it was a circle and not a triangle because then, well then Roger would have probably never forgiven himself. He finds it only slightly disturbing that it’s so easy for him now to dismiss his guilt over April but the thought that it could have been Mark makes everything he’s ever eaten in his life rise and bubble in his throat.
But Roger takes what he can get these days. Mimi was positive and so he felt no risk in being with her which no matter what Mark thinks, is the ultimate reason Roger stayed with her for so long. Mimi represented a last chance Roger knows now that he didn’t even need. She’d been right about one thing though - “no day but today” - four words that had made Roger realize that he was not a razor or a poltergeist in the bathroom the morning April died. He was simply the final explosive chemical ingredient in the potent mixture that had been April from the start. He couldn’t have saved her. If the AIDS hadn’t made her do it, the drugs would have. Mimi helped him realize that and Roger never got around to thanking her for it. A stupid song - Your Eyes - when all he really ever needed to say was “Thank you.” It wouldn’t have been enough for Mimi but it would have been enough for him. He’s never even given Mark that much, he thinks. Mark doesn’t get a song. Mark doesn’t get a rebirth. Mark gets cleaning up Roger’s puke and holding Roger when he’s shaking and a lie about Roger getting HIV from shooting up. They’re anything but honest.
Roger thinks about that night a lot more than he admits. He thinks about the ticking seconds between pushing open Mark’s door and going to find April. “Why did Roger knock on April’s door?” - And all that other bullshit Mark’s been preaching for the past year and a half. April’s dead. Mimi’s dead. Even fucking Angel is lying underground somewhere in a black thrift store dress. Roger remembers that April had been cremated. Live as a powder, die as a powder. It had seemed morbidly appropriate at the time. She’d had no family besides a sister who’d married some billionaire and moved to Greece. Mark had taken care of all the funeral arrangements. Roger hadn’t even attended.
The thing is Roger has so much to apologize for at this point that he doesn’t even know where to begin. He’ll never tell Mark any of this, he thinks as he hears the door to their loft open and Mark set his bike to the side. Roger imagines him taking off his scarf and folding it on the kitchen counter. They really should move out of this dump someday.
“Roger?” Mark calls towards his room, “Hey, are you hungry? I can make something for you if you want?”
Normally, even if Roger is hungry, he lies about it. Mark babies him enough as it is and the knowledge that Roger can’t even feed himself without Mark around is too intense for either of them to dissect these days. Today though, he wants to be honest. He wants to make a start at telling Mark the truth. At letting Mark see that Roger almost killed him in the dark of their loft over three years ago. Maybe Mark will hate him for not being the victim. Maybe Mark will understand that Roger led April like a sacrifice to the alter so that Mark could live to dance on tables and make films about people who don’t deserve films made about them. Roger just doesn’t want to lie anymore.
“I am, yeah.” He calls back and he’s not looking but he can picture Mark’s face - a mix of confusion and relief. Roger hears the plates being brought down from the pantry and the water running in the sink. They’ll eat whatever Mark is making. They’ll talk about Mark’s day. Maybe Roger will mutter a “thank you,” before flopping onto the couch with his guitar and writing a song about someone who doesn’t ever get songs written about them. Roger thinks that sounds like a good start - saying the words he knows he should have said three years ago.
Maybe Roger’s got just enough time left to start telling Mark the truth.
PG-13
Mark Cohen/Roger Davis
It’s pretty stream of conscious and it needs some work but let me know what you guys think, yeah?
Sometimes Roger is almost glad that April killed herself. Sure, he’s bitter at having to go through a year of withdrawal and being HIV positive alone but he knows it wasn’t her fault and he knows he was never really alone. Those are two things Roger will never tell Mark. One) that April didn’t give him AIDS from sharing needles and two) that when he is around Roger actually doesn’t feel alone. The first thing is why he felt relief and then extreme guilt more than anything akin to grief at the discovery of her suicide. He’d never have to look her in the eyes and tell her he’d gotten them sick. She’d managed to figure it out on her own before he even could. He’d never have to hold her and nurse her, the way Mark did for him, which works out because he’s not strong enough to hold himself together let alone to have held April together for the past twenty-four months.
Everyone, and Roger finds this bitterly hilarious since he himself has never said anything one way or the other, assumed after April’s death that it had been her doing. That Roger had been caught up in her high and her rock and roll beauty and she’d ultimately gotten him sick. This is about one-fourth true. Roger did get caught up in the rock and roll lifestyle. How could any guy resist it when it’s calling his name and curling its finger at him? But it wasn’t the drugs that killed him. Oh, no. Not the drugs and not April. He’d killed April; he’d been sure. He’d killed her just as surely as if he’d been the razor sliding along her wrists. He couldn’t be more at fault if he’d stood behind her, held her hands up and helped her write her bloody last goodbye on the bathroom mirror. “Thanks for all the good times, Roger. See you in hell.” When Mark tells the story though, he makes it seem like Roger is a victim of some wild and reckless girlfriend gone by. When Mark tells the story, which is every time it’s told at all, April is the seductive villain-wolf and he, a lamb with a guitar, brought to rock and roll slaughter in the big city.
Even Mark has assumed a truth. The truth is Roger got fucked without a condom. Roger was an idiot and high out of his mind and he let the drugs be his Jiminy Cricket while his heart was too busy pumping every red blood cell in his body through every vein and capillary until there was nothing left under his skin but the dirt and grime he always felt there. He’d arched his back against CBGB’s back alley wall and let some fucker with HIV give him a one way ticket to faded glory. He’d been high. He’d come home and for a second, one split eternal life changing second, he’d considered going in to see Mark. He’d considered standing inside the new kid’s doorframe until he let Roger come all over his pretty blonde face. Instead, he’d turned around and fucked April that same night. She was home already anyway and what was the point of bothering Mark when his girlfriend was always willing? They’d never used a condom.
Now April is dead and as far as Roger’s concerned no one will ever know why. Especially not Mark. Not because Roger doesn’t trust him and not because Roger particularly cares about protecting him but for all he knows, maybe Mark already knows. Maybe April told him before she copped out of the life she left Roger with. He loved her. He really had and for a long time he’d been convinced that her suicide was his fault. He knows now he couldn’t have stopped her. The drugs were a slower form of it all but bleeding to death had only been like fast-forwarding a tape that was playing to the finale anyways. April always did have a flair for the dramatic, which is why Roger finds it funny when people label Maureen as the “drama queen.” He’s pretty sure he’s never seen Maureen high on smack and throwing furniture out the closed windows of a third story loft. He’s pretty sure Maureen loves herself way too much to ever cause herself any harm. April was no actress but she embodied drama better than Maureen could ever dream of.
Roger thinks being glad April killed herself is sick but he also thinks that sick is sort of relative when life’s only really one big cycle. She’d encouraged him because sometimes they were low on cash and sometimes dealers didn’t like April’s pussy so much as they liked Roger’s mouth. Another thing Mark will never know and why should he? It’s between Roger and April. It had been April all along. April got him hooked on the drugs that made him fuck bareback in back alleys that gave him the death sentence that he passed back to April. April and not Mark, thank whatever fucking deity might actually be up there that it was a circle and not a triangle because then, well then Roger would have probably never forgiven himself. He finds it only slightly disturbing that it’s so easy for him now to dismiss his guilt over April but the thought that it could have been Mark makes everything he’s ever eaten in his life rise and bubble in his throat.
But Roger takes what he can get these days. Mimi was positive and so he felt no risk in being with her which no matter what Mark thinks, is the ultimate reason Roger stayed with her for so long. Mimi represented a last chance Roger knows now that he didn’t even need. She’d been right about one thing though - “no day but today” - four words that had made Roger realize that he was not a razor or a poltergeist in the bathroom the morning April died. He was simply the final explosive chemical ingredient in the potent mixture that had been April from the start. He couldn’t have saved her. If the AIDS hadn’t made her do it, the drugs would have. Mimi helped him realize that and Roger never got around to thanking her for it. A stupid song - Your Eyes - when all he really ever needed to say was “Thank you.” It wouldn’t have been enough for Mimi but it would have been enough for him. He’s never even given Mark that much, he thinks. Mark doesn’t get a song. Mark doesn’t get a rebirth. Mark gets cleaning up Roger’s puke and holding Roger when he’s shaking and a lie about Roger getting HIV from shooting up. They’re anything but honest.
Roger thinks about that night a lot more than he admits. He thinks about the ticking seconds between pushing open Mark’s door and going to find April. “Why did Roger knock on April’s door?” - And all that other bullshit Mark’s been preaching for the past year and a half. April’s dead. Mimi’s dead. Even fucking Angel is lying underground somewhere in a black thrift store dress. Roger remembers that April had been cremated. Live as a powder, die as a powder. It had seemed morbidly appropriate at the time. She’d had no family besides a sister who’d married some billionaire and moved to Greece. Mark had taken care of all the funeral arrangements. Roger hadn’t even attended.
The thing is Roger has so much to apologize for at this point that he doesn’t even know where to begin. He’ll never tell Mark any of this, he thinks as he hears the door to their loft open and Mark set his bike to the side. Roger imagines him taking off his scarf and folding it on the kitchen counter. They really should move out of this dump someday.
“Roger?” Mark calls towards his room, “Hey, are you hungry? I can make something for you if you want?”
Normally, even if Roger is hungry, he lies about it. Mark babies him enough as it is and the knowledge that Roger can’t even feed himself without Mark around is too intense for either of them to dissect these days. Today though, he wants to be honest. He wants to make a start at telling Mark the truth. At letting Mark see that Roger almost killed him in the dark of their loft over three years ago. Maybe Mark will hate him for not being the victim. Maybe Mark will understand that Roger led April like a sacrifice to the alter so that Mark could live to dance on tables and make films about people who don’t deserve films made about them. Roger just doesn’t want to lie anymore.
“I am, yeah.” He calls back and he’s not looking but he can picture Mark’s face - a mix of confusion and relief. Roger hears the plates being brought down from the pantry and the water running in the sink. They’ll eat whatever Mark is making. They’ll talk about Mark’s day. Maybe Roger will mutter a “thank you,” before flopping onto the couch with his guitar and writing a song about someone who doesn’t ever get songs written about them. Roger thinks that sounds like a good start - saying the words he knows he should have said three years ago.
Maybe Roger’s got just enough time left to start telling Mark the truth.