Copyright: Characters from RENT belong to Jonathan Larson. If you see a name and are scratching your head, thinking, I don't remember this character. Wonder if they were part of the riots on Christmas Eve, then they are mine. If anyone lives in or near Santa Fe and could tell me how the schools are set up, I'd appreciate it. Also, is there anyone who knows why Collins wanted to open up a restaurant in Santa Fe? Why not some other town? That's just one of those little things that make you curious – but I'm not going to devote my life to finding an answer. Just wondering …
Oh yeah. Any song lyrics from RENT belong to Jonathan Larson.
Santa Fe, New Mexico. October 5, 10 pm.
I pull my blanket up to my chin. It's unusually cold for this early in October, but then again, I'm always cold. Out of the corner of my eye, I notice Angel tossing and turning on the other side of the room we share. I close my eyes and will myself to sleep, but memories of the day's events come flooding back to me.
October 5, 11:30 am.
First grade through third grade always had recess before lunch. Fourth grade through sixth grade had it the other way around. All classes were on the playground together for fifteen minutes. As soon as Mrs. Lewis finished droning on about playing safe, I ran to the swing set to wait for Ms. Clark's second graders to arrive. I gave a good one-over to each kid. Finally, I spotted her. I frantically waved until Angel saw me. She immediately ran over to join me.
My best friend gave me a hug. "Heypril!" she greeted me. "Bet I can swing higher than you." Leave it to Angel to make dares like that.
"Nah ah!" I retorted. "I can swing way higher than you!"
"Yeah hah!" Angel says in true elementary school lingo. She started pumping her feet. "On the count of three. One, two …"
"Three?" I suggested. She didn't answer me. Instead, she leapt off the swings and stood with her hands on her hips. The playful look in her eyes was replaced by one of seriousness. I started to ask her what was wrong, but then I saw them. Them were the Baker Boys. Or Baker Bastards as my brother called them when the adults were out of earshot. There were five brothers and their equally disgusting friends. They were the school bullies. If you crossed one, his other brothers would be out to get you. They reveled in tormenting Angel and I. Gay black men with AIDS simply did not raise feisty white girls in their eyes. My crime was being born HIV+. I usually screamed first-grade level obscenities at them, but Angel was different. She would physically fight if provoked enough. "Take a deep breathe," I whispered in her ear. Gee, I sound like Mama. I hated it when Angel got into fights.
Nine-year-old Brian, seven-year-old Clayton, and about three or four other boys approached the swings. Clayton walked right up to me. "Heypril," he said. "Didja take your ABT yet?"
I glared at him. "It's A Z T," I responded. "And don't call me Heypril." I don't mind when Angel and Roger call me that, but that's where I draw the line.
"Careful, Clay," Jeremy sneered. "If you don't watch out she'll infect you." The other boys laughed.
I felt my face flush. "You can't get infected by talking to me!" I pointed out. As usual, my words fell on deaf ears.
Frank turned his attention to Angel. "Hey, didja know your daddy's a fag?"
I saw Angel's eyes darken. "You don't even know what that word means!" she accused.
Brian nodded. "Yeah hah! Means that your daddy sucks penis." His use of the word penis set the other jerks rolling on the ground in hysterics. I reminded Angel to take a deep breath again, and she complied with my request. The boys continued to insult us, and we continued to retort at them. I hoped we wouldn't have to fight. So far, it was just words – this was good. My wish wasn't granted for long.
After Frank and Brian had lectured me in true third-grade fashion about how everyone in my family was going to H-E-double hockey sticks, they started in again on Angel.
"Your daddy's a nigger and a faggot and he deserved to die," Brian spat out. I saw Angel's fists and jaw clench.
"What did you say about my dad?" she asked through clenched teeth.
"We're glad your daddy's dead," Jeremy repeated. He shook his head. "Shame he didn't die sooner," he sighed. "Why'd he have to be at the Fourth of July picnic? One less of you people woulda made the day so much better."
That did it. Angel's eyes blazed and her mouth trembled. I saw her unsuccessfully try to blink back tears. "How dare you! How dare you!" my friend screamed through heavy sobs. She lunged towards Jeremy. "Nobody talks about my daddy that way!" She punched him in the nose.
I attempted to assist her, but Brian Baker twisted my arm and tried to tear off my red zipped sweat jacket. I elbowed him in the stomach. "Go away!" I screamed. He and Frank knocked me to the ground. I spit out the dirt that had entered my mouth. I managed to tear away and watched in horror as fists, elbows, knees, hair, and dirt, etc. went flying. I had finally convinced my best friend to stop punching everybody who teased me about my disease, but I wasn't about to keep her from fighting people who insulted Collins. She always lost her temper when they insulted her father, but since his death from AIDS-related-pneumonia [can someone please tell me how it's spelled? I'd appreciate it.] in July, her ability to control it had become practically non-existent.
A group of kids surrounded us, chanting, "Fight! Fight!" until it sounded almost like a mantra. Teachers and their aides attempted to break up the fight, but no one listened to their threats of suspension.
Suddenly, I felt a hand yank my jacket and pull me off the ground. My heart stopped until I saw the tall, lanky figure of my twelve-year-old brother. "Roger!" I cried, clinging to his waist. He threw me off and started the impossible task of tearing a kicking and screaming Angel away from the Baker gang.
"What in heaven's name is going on over here?!" Ms. Clark demanded to know. I glared at her. "Same as yesterday," I replied.
Roger put his hands on my shoulders. "Don't be rude, April," he scolded.
"She punched me," Jeremy complained.
Miss Laura turned to Angel. "Is that true, Angel?"
Angel bit her lip. "They were insulting my dad!" I saw her lower lip tremble. "I – I had to do something!" She tore away from the crowd and ran. Ms. Clark tried to chase her, but gave up. Angel wasn't the fasted runner in Santa Fe Elementary School for nothing.
Mrs. Lewis turned to Roger. "Young man, shouldn't you be in Junior High right now?"
My brother gave her a sheepish grin. "If I don't skip and come to this recess, you'll never break up any of Angel's fights," he pointed out.
I quietly snuck away and began to look for my friend. I found her leaning against the bottom of the jungle gym. She was curled up in a ball, her body shaking. I slowly approached her and tapped her on the back. "Angel Food Cake," I said softly. She looked up at me. Her face was streaked with tears. I sat down next to her and began stroking her head. "Shhh…shhh," I said. I held her as she cried. "Do you want me to sing to you?" I asked. She nodded. I began singing the song that Collins had always sang her to sleep with. It was the same song that he and his old boyfriend had once sung to each other. Whenever one of us was having it rough, the other one would start singing.
"Live in my house – I'll be your shelter," I began. "Just pay me back with one thousand kisses. Be my lover – and I'll cover you."
I hear sniffling coming from the bed next to mine. I roll over. "Angel?" I whisper. "Angel Food Cake!" I whisper louder this time.
Angel gets out of her bed and crawls in with me. "Can I sleep with you tonight?" she asks. We huddle together under the covers.
"Why can't Daddy be here?" she blurts out. "Daddy should be here." I put my arm around her and let her stain my nightgown.
"Live in my house – I'll be your shelter. Just pay me back with one thousand kisses. Be my lover – and I'll cover you."
Angel gulps and attempts the second verse. "Open your door – I'll be your tenant. Don't got much baggage to lay at your feet. Be my lover – and I'll cover you."
Mama enters the room as we get to Be my life. "Medicine time," she announces cheerily at the foot of my bed. "Come on, April Chica." She stops when she sees Angel.
"Not now, Mama," I say.
Mama sits down on the bed and puts her arms around us. Angel buries her head in Mama's chest. "Where's Daddy?" she asks. "I want my daddy."
Mama just holds her and rocks her back and forth. "I miss him, too, honey," she says. "God knows how much I miss him." She says this more to herself than to us.
"Why'd he have to die, Mimi?" Angel looks pleadingly at my mother, as if Mama's answer will set the world right again.
"I wish I could answer your question," Mama answers. "Your dad was very very sick."
"Brian Baker says Collins deserved to die," I tell her.
Mama asks us when Brian said that. We rehash the day's events.
"There will always be people who hate us," Mama explains. "People don't like someone who is different. Angel, your dad was one of the most special people I have ever known." She tells Angel that Collins is in heaven now. "He's not sick anymore," she reminds us. "And he's with Angel now." By Angel, she means the pretty lady in the Santa Claus dress in Mark's films. Angel Dumott Schunard was a transvestite who fell in love with Collins one Christmas Eve and died from AIDS the following Halloween. My best friend had been named after her.
"Would you like me to sleep in here tonight?" Mama asks gently. Angel nods. "All right, lets go get your meds," she tells me.
I groan. I know that the god-awful liquid medicine is my ticket out of the hospital, but still … "Can we have some ice cream after?" I suggest.
"Ice cream now?" Mama shakes her head in disbelief. "You girls will never get any sleep." One look at a tear-stained Angel lets her know that we aren't going to get any sleep anyways. "Fine. But don't try to get out of taking your AZT. And only one scoop. Do I make myself clear?"
Angel and I say "Yes, ma'am" in unison and follow Mama down to the kitchen.
