My second Rentfic. A Mark/Mimi one this time, and mostly pre-Rent, although it goes into AU near the end of the story. It's sort of hard to explain, and it's best experienced if you just read to get the sense of what it's about. I'm far from arrogant when it comes to my writing, and I hate a good ninety percent of what I put out, but this story I'm actually proud of. So please, give it a try, and if you do read, then please review, whether you love it or hate it or have no opinion on it whatsoever.
Special thanks to Lola, Becca, and Elyse for their valuable comments and pestering me to keep up with this. I love you guys.
Always
By Dulcey
I'm up here on my own again, I'm always on my own
They don't know anything at all, they see just what they want
Can't they see I'm not really here? I'm back there with you
Flying away, wish I could say you would be there tomorrow and always
Just have to go, wish I could know you would always remember me now and always
Turning my face away again, I'm always turned away
Wanting someone to talk it out, without you always
Flying away, wish I could say you would be there tomorrow and always
Just have to go, wish I could know you would always remember me now and always
-Anthony Rapp
I knew it was her even before Roger pointed her out in the crowd. I'd suspected ever since he caught up with me in the park. That in itself was surprising--Roger hadn't set foot outside the apartment for over seven months, ever since we found April lying in a pool of blood with a razor still clutched in her hand, and a hastily scrawled suicide note taped to the bathroom door. But now here he was, with a story about a young girl who'd knocked on the door after I'd left, and asked him to light her candle.
And now here she was, in front of my eyes, as though she'd merely stepped out of the dreams that had haunted me for years. She was alive, which was an immense relief. But she wasn't okay. Maybe I could only see this because I'd loved her, but she looked too thin. Her eyes, which I remembered as being beautiful and sparkling and full of life, were dull and listless. Worst of all, she was following the dealer around with the other junkies. She was wearing a long sleeved coat, but I could imagine the ugly red tracks that must cover her arms, just like the ones Roger had for years.
Roger's eyes met mine, and we shared a worried glance. "I'll go talk to her," he told me. "Do you think she'd come to dinner with us if I apologized?"
It was hard to say. Mimi could be fiercely proud, and while I'd only loved her more for it, I couldn't exactly tell Roger this.
I shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant. "It's worth a try. Go for it."
Roger gripped my shoulder tightly, then ran off toward the crowd of junkies. My scarf had come loose, and I busied myself with retying it, trying to push back the memories that were threatening to overwhelm me. I could hear her beautiful, musical laugh as though it were yesterday. When I closed my eyes, I could feel her head resting against my shoulder. I couldn't begin to count the number of times she'd fallen asleep like that, halfway through the movie we'd rented. She asked me once if I was offended that she could never stay awake through a film. I'd laughed and said I didn't mind at all, as long as it wasn't my film she was sleeping through.
She was here, in St. Mark's square, a mere twenty yards from where I now stood. Had it really been two and a half years since I'd seen her? Thirty months from when she and Benny broke up, and she cried on my shoulder, and we kissed, and finished the night in my bed? A mere two and a half years, and yet it felt like several lifetimes.
We hadn't met under the best of circumstances, Mimi and I. I'd been visiting a friend uptown, and hadn't made it back until late at night. I saw her on my walk from the subway stop to the apartment Benny and I shared, and at first, she just looked like another one of those prostitutes who waited around 10th Street after the sun went down. I wouldn't have given her a second glance, except for one thing: she was crying.
If I want to be honest here, part of me wanted to keep on walking. It was late, and I had an appointment early the next morning. Besides, what business of this was mine? Who said I could do anything for this girl?
Our eyes met, and the fear and pain and humiliation I read in them made me stop in my tracks. "Hey," I called softly to her. "Are you okay?"
She shook her head and turned away, burying her face in her hands. "Go away," she sobbed. "Please, leave me alone."
She didn't sound like she meant it, though, and I took another cautious step in her direction. "Are you sure?" I pressed. "Do you want me to call someone for you?"
The girl shook her head again. "My family's disowned me, and my friends are a bunch of losers. They can't help me."
"Is there anything I can do?" I continued. "Are you hungry? I know a place that serves great creamed carrots."
A hint of a smile flickered across her face. "Creamed carrots? Who eats that stuff?"
"Or anything else you want," I hastened to add. "My treat."
The girl looked doubtful. "I don't know. I don't think this is such a good idea."
She sounded semi-sure of herself at that point, and the last thing I wanted to do was pressure her. She has enough problems of her own without a complete stranger pestering her, I told myself. But how could I leave her there? Now that I'd seen the pain and misery written on her face, was I hard hearted enough to simply walk away?
I decided on a compromise. "Here," I offered, reaching into my wallet and handing her a twenty. It was all the money I had, but she needed it more than I did. "Get yourself something to eat, and a place to stay for the night, if you need one."
"Oh, no," she protested, pushing the money back into my hand and folding my fingers around it. "I couldn't take your money."
"Please," I insisted, tucking the money into her hand for the second time. "Let me do this for you."
She continued to look doubtful. "You'd have to let me pay you back."
I opened my wallet again, and handed her one of my business cards. I hadn't used them much since Benny gave them to me months ago, but this seemed as good an opportunity as any. "You can find me at that address," I told her. "Or leave a message with my roommate."
"Thank you," she whispered. "I don't know why you're doing this, but thanks."
I wasn't sure what to say to that. Was there any appropriate response? "Take care of yourself, okay?"
"I'll try." She gave me a small smile. "You're very sweet--" she glanced at the card, "--Mark."
I watched as she walked away. To my disappointment, she didn't look back once.
When I got home, I staggered over to the couch and collapsed onto it, falling asleep almost immediately. It might have been hours, or merely minutes later when I was roused from my slumber by a pounding on the door.
"Shit," I mumbled, slowly rousing myself from the couch. As I stumbled across the living room in the darkness, I stubbed my toe on a chair leg and let another obscenity fly. The knocking resumed. "I'm coming, I'm coming," I called impatiently.
Finally I made it to the door. After what felt like an eternity fiddling with the locks, I managed to swing it open. It took a moment for my brain to recognize the small figure standing before me.
It was her.
Larry's Diner wasn't exactly known for fine cuisine, but it was cheap and it was open 24 hours. "And their creamed carrots really are good," I told the girl as we slid into a booth. "Although I'd stay away from the meat loaf. You don't want to know what Larry puts in there."
"Why are you doing this?" she asked for the third time since we'd left my apartment. "Why are you being so nice to me?"
It was the same question I asked myself, but this time, I needed an explanation. A good one, even. "I'm a nice guy," I shrugged. "And really, it's no big deal."
Her hand crept nervously across the table until it was almost touching mine. Our eyes met, and she quickly yanked it back.
"I suppose you'll want to know what I was doing out there," she mumbled, dropping her head and appearing to become engrossed in a coffee stain on the table.
"That would help, yes." I saw her shoulders tense up, and hastened to add "But why don't we wait until after we've gotten some food into you?"
She still wouldn't look up. "Is there anything else you want me to do?"
"There is one thing," I began.
The girl nodded her head in resignation. "All right." That terrified look was back in her eyes.
"No, no," I hastened to assure her. "I just wanted to know what your name was."
"Oh." She gave me a small smile, and I felt a cloud of butterflies materialize in my stomach. "It's Amelia. But my family always called me Mimi."
"Mimi," I repeated, relishing the sound of it. "It fits you."
"My papa always said that Amelia was too big a name for such a little girl." Her smile faded, and was replaced by the now-familiar forlorn expression.
The waiter appeared, and set our food before us. We busied ourselves with eating, although I stole glances at Mimi every now and then. She was scarfing down her food like there was no tomorrow, and I wondered exactly when she'd had her last good meal.
Over her protests, I asked the waiter to bring her another helping. She insisted that she was full, and couldn't eat another bite, then proceeded to wolf down the second plate almost as quickly as the first.
I paid the bill, and Mimi and I left the diner. It was a clear June night, and even though it was approaching one in the morning, there were still a number of people out on the streets, anxious to hit the bars for one last shot before closing time. Mimi and I hiked three blocks over to the park, where we found a semi-isolated bench.
I sat down and patted the place beside me. "Have a seat."
Mimi slowly sank down onto the bench, hugging her knees to her chest. "Where do you want me to start?"
I gave her what I hoped was a reassuring smile. "Wherever you're most comfortable."
"Okay." She drew a deep breath. "Why is this so hard?"
I took a risk and reached for her hand. To my relief, she didn't pull away.
"I guess it started last year, when I was fifteen." Her voice was so soft I could barely hear it. "My brother's friends always came over to our house. It was no big deal, except one day they came when I was home alone, and" Even in the darkness, I could see the tears glistening in her eyes.
"It's okay," I hurriedly assured her. "You don't have to talk about that part."
"I found out I was pregnant two months later," she continued, her voice growing a little stronger. "I didn't know what I was going to do, then one of my girlfriends told me about a doctor in the city who fixed these things. I didn't have any money, so I stole all the cash my father kept in his drawer. I got rid of the baby, and never went back."
I tightened my grip on her hand. "Don't you think they're worried about you?"
She shook her head. "I come from a strict Catholic family. They would never forgive abortion."
"But it wasn't your fault!" I exclaimed.
"It doesn't matter." Her jaw was set, her eyes hard. "Not to my family."
What was I supposed to say to this? What words could I possibly come up with to ease the unthinkable amount of suffering she'd been through at such a young age?
"I lived with a girlfriend here in the East Village after that," Mimi continued. "But she moved out last week. I've been out on the streets since then. I've looked all over for a job, but no one would hire me because I'm only sixteen." She lowered her eyes. "I thought if I could sell myself, I could make enough money to live on and it wouldn't matter how young I was."
"Oh, Mimi." I still had no idea what to say to her. "I'm so sorry"
"Don't be," she insisted firmly. "Nothing will ever get better if anyone feels sorry for me."
"Is there anything I can do?"
She held up a hand. "You've done enough already. Don't feel obligated."
"Mimi, I want to help." I couldn't tell whether she believed me or not. "Please. Do you need a place to stay?"
She gave a short, bitter laugh that sounded much too old for someone as young as she was. "That's nice of you, Mark, but I don't think you know what you're getting into."
"Look, why don't you stay at my place tonight? On the couch," I hastened to add, feeling her jerk her hand out of mine. "My roommate won't mind."
"Thank you, but I'd better not." I marveled at her pride, even as I felt a slight twinge of disappointment.
"All right," I gave in. "But I'll leave the door unlocked. If you change your mind, you know where to go."
"I won't. But thank you." She kissed my cheek.
It was a lonely walk home. When I got back, I took off my jacket and shoes before falling onto my bed. The next morning, when I woke up, I was convinced the whole thing was a dream. I'd overslept and missed my appointment, so I called, feigned sickness, and rescheduled for next week. I took a shower. I changed into clean clothes. And I went out into the kitchen to make myself some breakfast.
Halfway there, I saw something that made me stop in my tracks. A girl's jacket thrown across the arm of the sofa. Curly black hair. And Mimi, curled up on the couch, fast asleep.
