Disclaimer- Alas, RENT does not belong to me. I am not, in fact, Jonathan Larsen, I am just a 14 year old girl hyper on SPREES(R).
A/N- usually I would say this at the end, but...it would ruin the story. Please review, so I know SOMEONE read it. Thanks
Roger sat numbly at the church, surrounded by friends.
The priest solemnly intoned, "Dearly beloved, we gather here to say our goodbyes..."
Roger's mind flashed back to the night when Mark had sung that very line. Mimi had been so alive then- dancing on tables, singing, living with everything she had. Not like now. Now she was dead. Dead.
"...to Amelia Maria Joesephina Marquez, beloved daughter and friend..."
Ick. Who's name was that?...Oh yeah. Roger remembered Mimi- not Amelia- telling him that once or twice. She never liked her name much, she said. Wasn't right for her. And it wasn't. Amelia Maria Josephina Marquez was to stuffy, to fancy. Not like her. Not like Mimi.
He remembered how she died. She had lived for a full year after the "park" incident, where Angel brought her back from the brink. And what a wonderful year it had been. Mimi had quit her job at the Cat Scratch club, and devoted most of her time to either the local AIDS center, as a secretary and as a speaker at schools, or at the Bronx Zoo, where the feline of Avenue B had volunteered with the cats, including some with FIV- Feline Immunodeficiency Virus. And she had died peacefully, in Roger's arms, with all her friends around her.
Mark nudged him. It was time for Roger to get up and speak.
"Well, as we all know, Amelia...no. Mimi. Mimi was a fun, lighthearted person to be around..." he began. Mimi's stiff, conservative parents frowned at their daughter being called Mimi, but everyone else their knew it was the right name for her.
Later, as the service ended, they walked to the cemetery. The bohemians had gotten enough money together to buy a gravestone. It suited Mimi much, much more than one that her parents would have selected- "Amelia Maria Josephina Marquez, Beloved Daughter, Loving Soul." Can you imagine.
It was a sunny, clear day- the type Mimi loved best. And Roger thought he could hear her say- from somewhere up above, he was sure- They call me...Mimi...
Mimi Marquez
1970-1991
No Day But Today