Author's note: I bet you all hate me right about now…
September, 1993
"Firefly, you've got the grades for any school you want. Why stay at NYU?" Roger was reviewing Firefly's college applications. She had chosen NYU as her top school. "I mean," Roger continued, "look at this list of safeties. All of them would accept you. Wellesley, Sarah Lawrence, MIT, any of them. Why NYU?"
"Because," Firefly explained, patiently, for about the millionth time, "I want to be around when your case finally gets to court. I promised I'd stick around for you and I will. I can always transfer to SLC or Wellesley later on." She put an arm around Roger. "Don't worry so much about me. I've got my future under control."
Roger nodded. "I just don't want to see you end up like me. A twenty-five year old burnout who can't hold a job."
Firefly nodded. "So your gig got cancelled…"
"Because I couldn't come up with new songs. Let's face it, I'm a loser. You can be better than me."
Firefly smiled. "You
only had a month left. Go back. Get a diploma."
Roger shrugged.
"Maybe. I've gotta take off. Joanne and I are discussing the case
over lunch."
"Did you ever decide
what charges to push?"
"Joanne's definitely pushing
kidnapping. Maureen thinks we should push assault, and Benny's been
talking sexual assault, but we can't prove that one. Joanne's
also got some legal jargon about me being denied my pills. Nothing's
been decided yet."
"Well, good luck."
Roger nodded. "Yeah, I'll need it." He sighed. "This was a mistake."
"No, it wasn't." Firefly looked at him. "Pushing for justice isn't a mistake."
"And if I lose? The Greys still own our building. They can turn around and countersuit for the rent we owe them."
"You won't lose."
"I might." Roger shook his head. "I've gotta go. We'll talk later!"
Mimi poked her head out of her bedroom. "Firefly, can you do me a favor?"
"Sure. What?"
"Run to the store and pick up some more of Marina's formula. And calamine lotion. Biggest you can find. And eggs." Both Mimi and Marina were suffering chicken pox, and since none of the Bohemians could remember having it, they were quarantined in their room. Mimi continued. "There's thirty-five dollars in the jar above the fridge. Thank you."
"No problem."