Categories > Theatre > Rent > Songbook of Roger Davis
Room 24
Golden-red leaves flew through the heavy clouded sky as the wheels of a beat-up 1990 ford cruised through the New York streets. Roger stared straight ahead not looking back, unshed tears stinging his eyes.
"That's right Roger, Run away...Just run from everything."
His thoughts ridiculed him endlessly. It was his escape. Running. He ran when everything he knew stared to fall apart. It was always the same just like Meems had said. He hated her for being right.
"It was always Run away, hit the road, don't commit..."
The highway, at last. Freedom form the deep dark hell of New York. He loved the feel of the open road. No one could stop him out here. He watched the city growing smaller and smaller behind him, as the city geared itself from a blazing sunset into the wild night life. A part of him screamed to go back, not to leave with such hate, but he just kept driving.
"Roger..." he heard Mimi's voice in the back of his head whispering softly. His mind swayed from reality to last Christmas ...
"Roger..." she looked into his deep grey eyes pleading, softly calling his name.
He just stared at her, looking down into her warm features. He loved the shape of her lips. They were so full. He was vaguely aware of Mark's voice narrating in the background as he brought his lips gently to hers.
"Mimi and Roger share a small lovely kiss..."
Shaking his head he quickly slammed on the breaks a pulled over to the side of the road. The whole point of leaving was to escape everything. And all he could think about was her...He tried to think about something else, anything, but it was useless. So, he let the memories come. They ran through like one of Marks films with a passion that was created by a true love for what you do.
"Love...? Me? I don't love...I can't. never again..."
Mimi stood in the door to the loft that night, staring at his back. Even without her talking he knew she was there. Irritated, he ignored her and continued to pluck notes on the fender...when he didn't say anything he heard her sigh...Then his voice came with a harsh and bitter tone.
"What?"
"Roger I-"
"Yes? What is it Mimi?"
A tone of defeat had creped into his voice by this point and she had walked over to him and placed a hand on his shoulder and leaned into his face her lips against his ear.
"Please come back downstairs...?"
Her voice was so pleading that he couldn't say no. He stood and wrapped an arm around her shoulder and gave her a small smile and a kiss on the cheek.
"Ok...I'll come back down."
Even then he knew something wasn't right and he just shook it off . He knew deep down that she was in trouble but he didn't see it. He didn't want to...even when it was staring him in the face.
Roger leaned his head against the steering wheel and breathed the leathery scent of the car. He still held the wheel, his fingers pulsing, burning to play the fender one last time. He sat here for over an hour and with each passing memory, he found it harder not to care.
"Go back, go back. You can still can..."
He sat up, his face was determined, he pulled back on the road and drove on. He felt his heart nearly ripping to shreds, but he forced an icy layer over it. Unemotionally; he continued driving with an unattached fierceness. He went through state after state. Not stopping unless he needed to.
'POP'
"Damnit"
A flat tire.
"Just Fucking Fabulous...now where the hell am i?"
A small, battered green sign up ahead said Santa Fe--10 miles. Just behind him there was a small, cheap looking motel and he took his bags out of the car and went inside.
He walked through the dimly lit room, barely noticing the faded wallpaper, the ragged carpet or the cracked windows. He set his bags in front the desk and cleared his throat at the attendant who was, reading a tabloid.
"How much for a room..?"
The small Red-headed woman at the front desk smacked her gum. Her small blue eyes looking him up and down, hungrily.
"Six-fifty a night. Single bed?"
"Yeah."
She handed him a key that had a faded green tag with the number 24 stamped in red ink.
"Thanks.."
"If you need anything...I'm here all night.." a small smile stretched across her face.
He cut her off before she could finish "Trust me when I say this, I wont need anything." Setting the money on the desk he picked up his bags and went in search of room 24.
Golden-red leaves flew through the heavy clouded sky as the wheels of a beat-up 1990 ford cruised through the New York streets. Roger stared straight ahead not looking back, unshed tears stinging his eyes.
"That's right Roger, Run away...Just run from everything."
His thoughts ridiculed him endlessly. It was his escape. Running. He ran when everything he knew stared to fall apart. It was always the same just like Meems had said. He hated her for being right.
"It was always Run away, hit the road, don't commit..."
The highway, at last. Freedom form the deep dark hell of New York. He loved the feel of the open road. No one could stop him out here. He watched the city growing smaller and smaller behind him, as the city geared itself from a blazing sunset into the wild night life. A part of him screamed to go back, not to leave with such hate, but he just kept driving.
"Roger..." he heard Mimi's voice in the back of his head whispering softly. His mind swayed from reality to last Christmas ...
"Roger..." she looked into his deep grey eyes pleading, softly calling his name.
He just stared at her, looking down into her warm features. He loved the shape of her lips. They were so full. He was vaguely aware of Mark's voice narrating in the background as he brought his lips gently to hers.
"Mimi and Roger share a small lovely kiss..."
Shaking his head he quickly slammed on the breaks a pulled over to the side of the road. The whole point of leaving was to escape everything. And all he could think about was her...He tried to think about something else, anything, but it was useless. So, he let the memories come. They ran through like one of Marks films with a passion that was created by a true love for what you do.
"Love...? Me? I don't love...I can't. never again..."
Mimi stood in the door to the loft that night, staring at his back. Even without her talking he knew she was there. Irritated, he ignored her and continued to pluck notes on the fender...when he didn't say anything he heard her sigh...Then his voice came with a harsh and bitter tone.
"What?"
"Roger I-"
"Yes? What is it Mimi?"
A tone of defeat had creped into his voice by this point and she had walked over to him and placed a hand on his shoulder and leaned into his face her lips against his ear.
"Please come back downstairs...?"
Her voice was so pleading that he couldn't say no. He stood and wrapped an arm around her shoulder and gave her a small smile and a kiss on the cheek.
"Ok...I'll come back down."
Even then he knew something wasn't right and he just shook it off . He knew deep down that she was in trouble but he didn't see it. He didn't want to...even when it was staring him in the face.
Roger leaned his head against the steering wheel and breathed the leathery scent of the car. He still held the wheel, his fingers pulsing, burning to play the fender one last time. He sat here for over an hour and with each passing memory, he found it harder not to care.
"Go back, go back. You can still can..."
He sat up, his face was determined, he pulled back on the road and drove on. He felt his heart nearly ripping to shreds, but he forced an icy layer over it. Unemotionally; he continued driving with an unattached fierceness. He went through state after state. Not stopping unless he needed to.
'POP'
"Damnit"
A flat tire.
"Just Fucking Fabulous...now where the hell am i?"
A small, battered green sign up ahead said Santa Fe--10 miles. Just behind him there was a small, cheap looking motel and he took his bags out of the car and went inside.
He walked through the dimly lit room, barely noticing the faded wallpaper, the ragged carpet or the cracked windows. He set his bags in front the desk and cleared his throat at the attendant who was, reading a tabloid.
"How much for a room..?"
The small Red-headed woman at the front desk smacked her gum. Her small blue eyes looking him up and down, hungrily.
"Six-fifty a night. Single bed?"
"Yeah."
She handed him a key that had a faded green tag with the number 24 stamped in red ink.
"Thanks.."
"If you need anything...I'm here all night.." a small smile stretched across her face.
He cut her off before she could finish "Trust me when I say this, I wont need anything." Setting the money on the desk he picked up his bags and went in search of room 24.
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