Chapter Fifteen: Lullaby
Chapter Fifteen: Lullaby
This wasn't normal. That was the only thing Mark could think as he sat on the edge of his bed watching Roger struggle to breathe. It wasn't normal for Roger to come over and immediately, without saying anything, drag Mark up to his room and close the door. It wasn't normal for Roger to sit there for 15 minutes without cracking one joke. But most of all, in Mark's mind, it wasn't normal for Roger too look like he was fighting back tears.
"What's going on?" he asked, unsure whether or not that was the right question. Roger took a shaky breath and ran his fingers through his shaggy blonde hair.
"My father..." he answered hoarsely. Mark bit his lip - he'd never asked where Roger's father was, he just knew that it had been Roger and his mom for years. Roger never mentioned his father, and Mark just assumed he wasn't part of Roger's life any more. Apparently that wasn't entirely true.
"You... wanna talk about it?" Mark ventured after another unbearably long silence. Roger made a quiet sound - a rough, humorless laugh.
"No." he said bluntly. Mark's shoulders drooped, wondering if maybe Roger didn't consider him as close a friend as Mark did. "He just showed up out of nowhere." Roger's voice was so soft Mark almost didn't hear him over the music Roger had turned on when they came in. "He shows up when he wants money." he almost spat the last word out, and the anger and hatred in Roger's voice made Mark jump. "He tracks us down and shows up on our doorstep demanding money like it's his right, like we're actually his family, and when Mom won't give it to him, he... he harrasses her, usually. This time, he..." Roger choked suddenly, and went from looking enraged to looking quite lost, and Mark almost had to fight back an urge to hug him tightly, like he would a little kid.
"What happened?" Mark asked quietly, resting his hand on Roger's shoulder, whether to keep himself steady or comfort Roger he wasn't quite sure. Roger took a few deep breaths and closed his eyes.
"He hit her." he whispered. "He was drunk and broke and Mom tried to force him out and he... he hit her." Roger shook his head. "And I couldn't fucking stop him." he clenched his fists and Mark suddenly wondered why he hadn't noticed the black eye that was starting to show up on Roger's face.
"Is she okay?" Mark asked, worried. "Where is she? Where is HE?"
"She's okay. She's on her way to visit my Aunt June in Brooklyn. She'll probably stay through Thanksgiving. He's in jail." Roger sighed softly. "Mom called your dad at his office, when no one picked up here. He said I could stay with you guys until she gets back." Mark nodded.
"Okay." he hesitated. "Are... are you okay?" he asked slowly. Roger didn't reply for a long time, and Mark was suddenly afraid he'd somehow pushed Roger away by prying too much.
"I... I wish I weren't so... so fucking helpless sometimes..." Roger said finally, sniffing a little and trying to nonchalantly scrub at his eyes. Mark squeezed Roger's shoulder, not quite sure what to say to that. They sat there silently for a moment, then the barest hint of a smile flitted across his face. "Hey Mark?" he asked.
"Yeah?"
"Sing something?" Mark blinked, confused. Why in the world would Roger want to hear him sing? "It'll get my mind off... everything." he added, as if reading Mark's thoughts - a skill he'd been perfecting the past few months. Mark smiled ruefully.
"Okay," he nodded, resigned to his fate, "What should I sing?"
"Lullaby of Broadway." Roger suggested softly. Mark tucked this memory away under "Important" and sang in his unsure, off-key voice, his eyes closed and his hand still resting on Roger's shoulder. And because Mark couldn't see him, Roger smiled.
This wasn't normal. That was the only thing Mark could think as he sat on the edge of his bed watching Roger struggle to breathe. It wasn't normal for Roger to come over and immediately, without saying anything, drag Mark up to his room and close the door. It wasn't normal for Roger to sit there for 15 minutes without cracking one joke. But most of all, in Mark's mind, it wasn't normal for Roger too look like he was fighting back tears.
"What's going on?" he asked, unsure whether or not that was the right question. Roger took a shaky breath and ran his fingers through his shaggy blonde hair.
"My father..." he answered hoarsely. Mark bit his lip - he'd never asked where Roger's father was, he just knew that it had been Roger and his mom for years. Roger never mentioned his father, and Mark just assumed he wasn't part of Roger's life any more. Apparently that wasn't entirely true.
"You... wanna talk about it?" Mark ventured after another unbearably long silence. Roger made a quiet sound - a rough, humorless laugh.
"No." he said bluntly. Mark's shoulders drooped, wondering if maybe Roger didn't consider him as close a friend as Mark did. "He just showed up out of nowhere." Roger's voice was so soft Mark almost didn't hear him over the music Roger had turned on when they came in. "He shows up when he wants money." he almost spat the last word out, and the anger and hatred in Roger's voice made Mark jump. "He tracks us down and shows up on our doorstep demanding money like it's his right, like we're actually his family, and when Mom won't give it to him, he... he harrasses her, usually. This time, he..." Roger choked suddenly, and went from looking enraged to looking quite lost, and Mark almost had to fight back an urge to hug him tightly, like he would a little kid.
"What happened?" Mark asked quietly, resting his hand on Roger's shoulder, whether to keep himself steady or comfort Roger he wasn't quite sure. Roger took a few deep breaths and closed his eyes.
"He hit her." he whispered. "He was drunk and broke and Mom tried to force him out and he... he hit her." Roger shook his head. "And I couldn't fucking stop him." he clenched his fists and Mark suddenly wondered why he hadn't noticed the black eye that was starting to show up on Roger's face.
"Is she okay?" Mark asked, worried. "Where is she? Where is HE?"
"She's okay. She's on her way to visit my Aunt June in Brooklyn. She'll probably stay through Thanksgiving. He's in jail." Roger sighed softly. "Mom called your dad at his office, when no one picked up here. He said I could stay with you guys until she gets back." Mark nodded.
"Okay." he hesitated. "Are... are you okay?" he asked slowly. Roger didn't reply for a long time, and Mark was suddenly afraid he'd somehow pushed Roger away by prying too much.
"I... I wish I weren't so... so fucking helpless sometimes..." Roger said finally, sniffing a little and trying to nonchalantly scrub at his eyes. Mark squeezed Roger's shoulder, not quite sure what to say to that. They sat there silently for a moment, then the barest hint of a smile flitted across his face. "Hey Mark?" he asked.
"Yeah?"
"Sing something?" Mark blinked, confused. Why in the world would Roger want to hear him sing? "It'll get my mind off... everything." he added, as if reading Mark's thoughts - a skill he'd been perfecting the past few months. Mark smiled ruefully.
"Okay," he nodded, resigned to his fate, "What should I sing?"
"Lullaby of Broadway." Roger suggested softly. Mark tucked this memory away under "Important" and sang in his unsure, off-key voice, his eyes closed and his hand still resting on Roger's shoulder. And because Mark couldn't see him, Roger smiled.