Okay, soo….haha. guess I should give a little summary---
When mistakes are made, life tries to go on, when mistakes have consequential turnouts you feel like everything you do from there on out is a mistake. But, how could you call a daughter a mistake? Sure, she wasn't a mistake, but she lives with the burden of your problems, and that's the mistake in the action. April Davis, Amora Ángel April Davis, is that daughter that has lived her whole life carrying heavy burdens her parents passed on through their mistakes. Mimi is gone, and Roger is numb, and their daughter is a sixteen year old miracle. April, as she has chosen to be called, is just trying to live out the life of a normal teenager, but obviously when you have a life like hers, a normal childhood is a pretty picture lying on the cutting room floor of your miracle life.
So this is from her point of view and stuff….haha idk what else to say...disclaimer time. I don't own emotion I rent…hehehe, ;) sadly, I don't own rent either, I leave that honor to the wonderful Jonathan Larson…anyway enjoy
I sat on some cold, tenant rooftop as the occasional spring breeze blew and as the rain pattered around me and soaked my hair and clothes. Rain, it was rainy the whole week, well I guess that whole "April showers bring may flowers" shit is real, but I wasn't going to see too many flowers around there in that trapping city. It was April, just like my name, well April is actually my middle name, my first name is Amora; Amor is the Spanish word for love. Why my parents decided to name me "love," I have no idea. My first middle name, yeah, two middle names, is Ángel, the Spanish word for angel. Amora Ángel April Davis. Well, let me tell you I'm no angel. They do tell me I was a miracle baby; all I know is that two Alphabet City Bohos with AIDS got unlucky, got pregnant, and here's the miracle, me. But, trust me; I'm as much of a miracle as I am an angel. I've often questioned my dad about these non-fitting Spanish names, most of the time he just told me it was what my mom decided to name me, and that was all he would say. So I decided to just be April, and that's what everyone calls me, even though my dad didn't approve of it at first; I assumed it was just because my mom would've called me Amora, since that's what she named me, and he seemed to be so stuck on giving her what she wanted even though she was gone.
I've seen pictures of the original Angel, of course my dad didn't tell me about her – him? – Until I had found out on my own. I owe that to Collins; she was his one true love. Collins had no problem with bringing up the past, but my dad, he acted like all of it - whatever it is - had never happened, but yet he always seemed like he was still stuck there. He misses my mom, I know he does, but sometimes it's hard to try to move on, to forget about regretting, when the single most important person in your life stays hidden in the secret shadows of a, what I assume to be, horrible past.
I left those thoughts there for a moment, and turned to go inside and get out of the rain. I didn't mind the rain or spring, and I didn't mind summer either, but what I hated was the fall. Fall was before winter, and winter was cold, dark, and life always seemed to be that way in the winter; especially around Christmas, which was ridiculous. And the only thing worse than a cold and lonely darkness is the time before hand when you know it's coming. Also, that's when school starts, I wasn't always the best in school, and well, I didn't always hang out with the right people either, which was probably the problem.
I walked down the stairs and pulled open the big, metal door to our loft, stepping in to find my dad perched on the ratty old couch, strumming away at his Fender, the strings were old and needed tuned at least twice a day. I padded to the kitchen and turned around when he had stopped.
"You don't have to stop." I told him, turning back and pulling open the refrigerator, before closing it in disappointment. He just continued putting the dusty Fender in the case.
"Where's Mark?" I asked peeking my head into Mark's bedroom.
"He went out to go film a little more for his newest documentary." He responded. I sat on the large windowsill and placed my head against the cold glass and stared out into the city as dusk enveloped each building, and as neon lights began to light up the skyline.
"Why don't you ever go out?" I asked grabbing the drumsticks that sat next to me and began to tap them on my legs, on the window, and on my heels.
"I do go out." He stated, I always loved listening to my father's voice; it had this rock tone to it, well he was a rocker at some point in his life, and it always brought a calming sense to me.
"Yeah, but not enough," I retorted, setting the drumsticks down across my lap.
"I have you to worry about." I laughed at this.
"I go out too, I go out with Mark and Collins and auntie Mo and Joanne, they take me to the Life, and you almost always refuse to come." It seemed like he was starting to get angry over this but he kept his calm.
"They shouldn't be taking you there, you're sixteen."
"Yeah, almost seventeen," I smiled and glided over in his direction, plopping into a chair.
"Yeah," he sighed, "and what are you wearing?" I looked down at my clothes. I was clad in a small, black, body hugging dress, some black, torn tights covering my legs, a red belt around my waist, a small leather jacket, with large shoulders, and some shiny black boots with a cheetah print lining.
"What? Do I look like a whore?" I giggled, and then frowned when he didn't respond. "I'm sorry," I whispered, "but this is just how I dress."
"April, I wish you mom could see how beautiful you are." I smiled and wiped a tear from my eye before he could see; everyone always told me how I looked like her. I had tan skin and dark hair, just like my momma did, but I had these haunting grey-blue eyes, one's similar to my dad's.
"Come one, we're going out." I told him hopping from the chair and grabbing his arm.
"Why?"
"Dad, I don't even think you've seen this new millennium yet, let's go, everyone's at the Life." I pulled him, laughing, and he laughed too.
"Fine." He smiled as we flew out the door, down the stairs and into the rain. I looped my arm in his and leaned into him as we walked through the streets on our way to some fun. I guided us down 11th to the corner of 11th and Avenue C.
"Why are you going this way, it's raining, we could've gone straight down B and been there." He asked messing his hand through my hair until it covered my face.
"Stop!" I giggled, "Just wanted to walk longer with you." I liked spending time like this with him, I couldn't have wished for a better dad.
We walked down the dirty street; I could tell it freaked my dad out because his grip got tighter with every step. I gazed around as the rain began to slow and darkness started to fall. I could watch life happen on the lengths of these streets; I'd seen it all, the drug dealers, the drugs busts, the make-out sessions, the breakups, the homeless, the riots, and even a woman in labor, and well, things that go farther than making out.
We walked past a couple arguing, the girl was crying as her boyfriend yelled at her. I turned my head to my dad as the man on the street smacked the girl right across the face.
"Hey," my dad said, leaving me, stepping closer to them, he was angry and he stepped between them as the girl received another blow to the face. "What are you doing?" I recognized the girl; she lived below us in the tenant building, her name was Rosalina.
"This ain't your business, back off." The man shouted at my father, skirting around him and grabbing Rosalina by the arm.
"What the hell are you beating her up for?" my dad rebutted, pulling the man's arm from the shaking Rosalina.
"This ain't you business," he repeated, "Besides she ain't need no hero, she needs to be beaten."
"I'm gonna to call the cops if you don't stop." My dad continued, standing in front of Rosalina.
"Oh, that's scary. They ain't come down here; those white cops, they pussies." He said in his scruffy voice, trying to step around my father. "Besides Rosalina needs beaten."
"No, she doesn't."
"She been sleepin' around." The man said, cocking his head to view Rosalina who began to speak, her Mexican voice barely making it through her tears.
"No I haven't, you're just mad I'm leaving you." She cried, grabbing my father's arms, trying to stay hidden behind him.
"Look pal, just leave." my father shoved the man as he stepped closer.
"You wanna fight me you little rocker?" I winced at the man's laugh and it rang in my ears.
"No, I don't." the man stepped closer and I ran and grabbed Rosalina, pulling her to the edge of the street with me, she was shaking, crying. I looked at her wrist, there were bruises and I knew in an instant that this worthless man had beaten her before.
"It's ok." I told her as she looked at me with such a helpless expression, her eyes baring deep into mine. The left side of her face was bright red and there was another small bruise around her eyebrow. I turned my head and watched as the man shoved my dad back.
"I'm not fighting you. Now," my father's voice began to escalate to a point where even I was scared, "you leave her alone."
"Don't tell me my business." The man said, stepping closer to my father.
"Leave her the hell alone." My father shouted in such an angry voice my stomach flipped and I grabbed Rosalina tighter. I watched as the man laughed and began to take off, before he rounded the corner he looked to where we were standing.
"You ain't seen the last of me, bitch." He called, rounding onto 10th heading in the direction of Avenue D, and I heard a whimper escape her lips and she gripped me tighter. I looked to my father as he stepped closer to us, placing a trembling hand on my shoulder.
"Gracias," Rosalina cried breaking from my arms, "thank you so much, how can I ever repay you?"
"No need to pay me back. Why don't you just come to the Life with us?" he told her, accepting her small embrace. As they pulled apart she nodded. I had just gained a newfound respect for my father and as we began back on out path towards the Life, I glanced at his face. He noticed, and gave me a small smile. I walked between him and Rosalina, holding her still shaking hand until she began to calm down.
Soon we entered the Life and went straight toward the table everyone was at, ignoring the man in the front as he told us not to pull tables together even though we had no need to; he seemed to tell us that every time and usually we never listened.
"April!" Maureen squealed pulling me into her arms and then seating me next to her as she sat back down, lacing her fingers back into Joanne's, who gave me a big grin.
"Hey, you got your father out of the house!" Collins laughed, giving my dad a little punch in the arm.
"Hey guys, this is Rosalina, she lives below us." I watched as each of them gave my father a funny look, thinking she was his date.
"He just told my boyfriend – my ex – off." She said also noticing these stares and then sitting herself down next to me, my father taking a seat next to Collins, across from me.
Rosalina grabbed the side of her face, and I reached for her hand, removing it to look at the damage. It was still red, and it looked like it stung. I glanced around the Café and found just who I was looking for.
"Tommy!" I called, and he glided over, pulling out his little waiter's pad.
"What can I get for you chica?" he asked, pulling the pencil out from behind his ear.
"You know; Huevos Rancheros," I stated, bringing out my Mexican accent, "and a bag of ice, please, oh and some of what I'm getting for Rosalina, too." She smiled at me and ordered a beer for herself, and despite what I wanted I ordered myself just some water.
"Yes Ma'am. Roger?"
He held up his hand in response, "nothing, I'm good."
"He'll have a beer." Collins said, and Tommy nodded his head, pivoted, and left the table, disappearing behind the doors marked, 'Employees Only.'
"Are you okay, honey?" Joanne asked Rosalina. She just nodded sheepishly.
"Do you want Collins to kick his ass?" Maureen continued on, giggling.
"You guys don't need to do anything out of line to help me; Roger has already done enough." She said, staring down at her hands.
"It's okay Rosalina, we're glad to help." I told her, taking her hand and smiling at her.
"What's his name? We have to report him or something." My father asked.
"His name is Jason Randall." She told him, her eyes darting around the Café.
"Well, I'll do something about it." He told her, and she whispered a small thanks.
I also looked around the Café, noticing familiar faces, taking in familiar smells and sights. I saw some people from school huddled together in a little booth. I watched as Tommy treaded around the Café, taking orders, bringing orders. I smiled involuntarily each time his dark brown hair fell into his eyes and he did his little infamous toss and swipe, moving it back to the side. He had this jagged, what you could almost call 'emo' haircut and it was just perfect. He proudly wore his skinny jeans under his work apron and he had a black Tee with the logo for Metallica on it. I looked at his feet; his same old ratty converse; they were red and falling apart, but he always wore them. A few times he looked over at me and smiled.
"Is he your boyfriend?" Maureen whispered in my ear, and I laughed.
"Tommy? No he's just my friend." I told her, and she just nodded her head and winked at me.
"He is cute." Rosalina cut in, glancing in his direction.
"We're just friends, cut it out guys." And they both laughed and Maureen went back to a conversation with Joanne. I watched as my dad laughed at something Collins said, and I knew I had made the right decision taking him out that night.
I gazed at the table of people from school as they all laughed, there was no denying they were the ones who cut class and did drugs. One of them stood up; Billy Donnelly, he strutted in my direction and I turned back to the table. My breath caught in my throat when a felt a breath on my neck and smelt the stench of cigarette smoke.
"Get away Billy," I said without turning around, all conversation stopped and looks came our way.
"You're looking hot tonight." He slurred into my ear.
"The girl said leave." Collins ordered, standing from his seat. I turned as Billy stood up.
"I don't want trouble." He said, and I rolled my eyes. "Just a date." And he laughed, and I laughed sarcastically.
"Then go back to your little whore over there." I said and nodded my head towards his table.
"Look, if you don't want trouble; scat. I am a lawyer." I heard Joanne say. He laughed at this too.
"I'm not afraid of a lesbian." He snorted, and my mouth fell open.
"I believe you better back away now." Collins continued. All of Billy's friends were laughing from the booth across the Café. Out of the corner of my eye I saw the manager appear from behind the employee doors. He strutted over, and took Billy by the arm.
"You and your friends better leave." He barked. I smiled as Billy walked back to his table, guided his friends out the door, and slammed the door shut.
"Damn boys don't know how to treat women anymore." Collins said taking a swig of his Stoli as he sat back down, "twice in one night." He mumbled on. I pushed the dark wavy hair behind my ear and looked at my dad, who looked like he had no idea what to do.
Soon Tommy was back, and he gave us our drinks and food. I handed the small bag of ice to Rosalina and she cautiously placed it against her face.
After Tommy wiped off a few tables he came back over to us; the restaurant was clearing out, besides us there were only two other full tables. He pulled a chair over from another table and sat with the back against the table, his legs basically straddling the back of it.
"What are you guys up to?" he asked, taking a bite of my food, with my fork.
"Yeah, go ahead, you can have my food." I responded sarcastically. "Oh, and don't worry, I don't mind if you get your germs all over my fork." He laughed, and I caught myself smiling, I quickly stopped.
"What's a nice boy like you doing working in a place like this?" Collins asked.
"What makes you think I'm so nice?" Tommy joked, taking another bite of my food; I just pushed my plate in his direction and took a sip of my water. "I needed a job, and whatever gets me the money." He said.
"Oh Tommy, this is Rosalina." I introduced them and shot Maureen a look of annoyance as she winked at me again.
"Do you guys have a gig tomorrow?" I asked him; he was in a band, he was lead vocals and he sang, they were pretty heavy rock, and they were all my friends; all guys, that ought to have Maureen winking up a storm, which is exactly why she didn't know.
"Yep, you wanna come?" he asked, and I kicked Maureen as she nudged me under the table.
"Sure, that'd be great." He smiled and went back to my food.
I heard a high pitched beep come from my purse. I grabbed it, pulled it open, and stared blankly at the beeper. This had been my whole life; the whole reason I was a miracle. I saw Tommy wince; it killed him every time he heard that haunting beep and I knew it pained my dad as well. I watched as half of us switched off our beepers in silence, and reached for those plastic bottles our baggage filled lives seemed to rely on.
I fumbled through my purse and came up empty. I watched as AZT was taken and I vainly reached into the pockets of my coat, coming in contact with the bottle, I quickly shoved the pill in my mouth, and looked back up at everyone else.
"So, anyway, what time is the gig?" I quickly ended the awkward silence and wiped the silly tears I had shed and the picked my head back up.
"Eight," he answered, stuffing more food into his mouth. He glanced toward the employee doors. "Look, I gotta go clean dishes and stuff. See you tomorrow." I nodded and stuttered out a goodbye. I picked my things up and stood up.
"You don't have to be so ashamed." My father said, and I quickly shook my head,
"I'm not ashamed of anything." I replied slipping into my jacket.
"Than why do you act like that every time you take AZT in public, and when you take it anytime; I take it too. It's not your fault, it's my fault I have it, my fault you have it." He responded trailing off.
"What makes you think I'm ashamed?" I snapped back.
"I see how you act. If you're not ashamed what's the problem?" He stood too, and I saw the stares from the other people who were now leaving. I looked to Collins, Maureen, and Joanne, all sitting in complete silence, heads bobbing between my dad and I. Then I looked to Rosalina; she was caught there in something completely irrelevant to her, and I could tell she felt completely out of place.
"I don't know!" I shouted, rolling my eyes, trying to keep tears back. "I just hate it. I don't know; I don't even how I'm supposed to feel about it. Mostly, I'm just scared."
He stepped around the table, and I backed away from him. "April; we're all scared, but we live through the fear. I know I'm never the one to open up, but this is something we all live with." I shook my head.
"No, it's different; you all had a choice. I didn't, and now everyday I think about how tomorrow I may lapse into the end, and I had no way to stop it. Not even these goddamn pills stop it."
"We all realize this, why are you acting this way?" I shrugged my shoulders at him and he continued, "I know this was all mine and your mother's fault, but think about how lucky you are you made it to sixteen. How lucky you are you're even alive." He was now yelling in anger and I staggered to the door.
"Every time I take one of those pills, I see my momma and I see her lying in that bed towards the end, and every day you vainly forced those pills down her throat; what did they do? Nothing. Why should I even expect them to work for me?" and I grabbed the handle, pulled the door and ran out into the dark city.
I fled up Avenue B to the corner of 11th. I wiped at my eyes as tears fell and as rain poured. I sprinted up to the loft and yanked open the heavy door. I threw my purse to my bed as I entered the small room, and I took the AZT and threw it against the wall, and continued to sob as the bottle just rolled to a stop on the floor. I scrambled to the corner, reached for my other bag that was there and reached for my hidden pack of cigarettes. I lit up, and breathed in the heavy smoke. I heard a knock at my door and I ignored it, playing with a hole in my tights.
"April? It's Mark, can I come in?" I smiled at his voice and leaned my head back against the wall.
"No," I huffed, smoke filling the corner.
"Please?" he begged on. I stamped the cigarette out and strode to the door. I opened it a crack and stuck my head through.
"What?" I asked, trying to wipe more tears away.
"What's wrong?" he pushed the door open a little further.
"I don't want to talk about it." I told him, but I let him push the door open completely and I sat on my bed as he walked in and sat next to me.
"Well, where is your dad?" he questioned.
"Still at the Life, I guess."
"Can you tell me what happened?" he asked again and I shook my head.
"No, just talk Roger when you get home." Whenever I was mad at my dad I had a habit of calling him Roger, instead of dad. Mark laughed a little.
"You got in a fight with your dad?"
"I guess that's what you could call it." He pushed the strands of hair from my face and gave me a hug. Mark was one of my closest friends, even though he had no idea what I was going through, he was the easiest one to talk to, because everyone else acted like they understood, when half the time they really didn't. He gave me a long look, I could see my reflection in his glasses; my makeup was running and my hair was a mess, I smiled a little.
"I'll talk to him." He said standing up, he walked to the door but turned around before exiting.
"You might want to get rid of all of those cigarettes before your dad comes home." He scolded me and I sighed, falling back onto my bed as he finally left the room and closed the door.
I got up, ripped off my clothes and threw on my momma's old nightgown and picked up the pack of cigarettes. I pulled open the window, and tossed the pack down to the street below. Well, at least that would make some homeless person's day. I shut the window and crawled into my bed, curling under the one blanket. I spoke softly into the silence.
"Oh, momma, I wish you were still here. I'm sixteen and I haven't seen you since I was five. Eleven years." I often talked to her before falling asleep, it calmed me; it was the only connection I had to her; I didn't know if there was a heaven, or even if my momma was there, but just holding on to the thought that she was somewhere listening to me made everything around me just fade away. "Please forgive me, I didn't mean to yell at him, but no one understands. I'm so scared momma, I'm scared I'll wake up one day and dad will be gone, and I will be torn from any chance of a somewhat normal childhood. I'm scared that he'll wake up to a life without me. What would he do if he lost me too? I don't want to die momma, I'm only sixteen, why did God even put HIV and AIDS on this earth; it's not fair. I didn't deserve any of this. And I'm not blaming you, I know you made some wrong decisions, but it's not your fault you had me. Sometimes I think dad regrets having me, does he? I know he looks at me at sees you; I know that's why he's so numb. I wish I could have you back, I wish life could get easier, but it's only gonna get harder, isn't it? I was supposed to be dead long ago; I got some unlucky shot at life, so I'm just gonna try and take it." I felt tears slide down my face, and I curled up tighter as a chill passed through my body. "Goodnight, mamma, I love you." And I closed my eyes and tried to escape to dreams, the antidote to this terminal disease called life that we all have to live.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------sorry if any part of that was boring. Haha. I know that it doesn't really have a plot right now, but I was just trying to open up the story, and show you guys what's going on. I hope you like it. Hopefully it turns out good. PLEASE REVIEW!! Haha. Thanks for reading; stick with it! Maybe my lover, roger, (lol) was out of character, but I'm trying to show that he has changed….ahaha, anyways, just read, read and love. haha