Author's Note- These characters belong to Jonathan Larson,
not me.
I head
straight for the park, and the sun is just starting to set, making it more
difficult to see. It takes me a few
seconds to realize that Mark has joined me. We walk along the perimeter of the park and up all the paths, remaining
silent. I'm glad he followed me; just
having him here is comforting. There is
a bench full of young people; all probably junkies, and I go over ask them if
they have seen Mimi. No one would give
me a straight answer, but suddenly I hear Mark call my name. He is frozen in his tracks staring straight
ahead; I notice what he sees immediately and go over.
You could
barely notice the diminutive form sleeping on the bench, but I recognize that
curly black hair, and figure. I go over
and touch her gently, trying not to scare her. She awkwardly rolls over and I see the dirt on her face and leaves stuck
in her hair. "Roger?"
"Yeah Mimi,
it's me." I look over at Mark, but he
has moved away, but still remains close enough. "Can you sit up?" She
nods and sits up, coughing as she does. I didn't think it was possible for her to get any thinner, but she
has. Her eyes hold a hollowness in
them, I've never seen before. I put my
arm around her and hold her, cradling her small frame to me. "I'm here, baby, I'll take care of
you." She silently nods and hides her
head in my chest. I wave for Mark to
come over. "I'm going to take her to
the loft, ok? Go get some food and meet
us there." I reach into my pocket and
give him what little money I have.
"Sure thing." He crouches down and touches Mimi's leg,
"Hey." The word barely comes out, and I
notice her smile at him. "I'll see you
guys at home." He leaves us, and I stay
holding Mimi until the sun is completely set. Having her back in my arms overwhelms me more than I thought
possible. For the first time in months,
I feel complete. I stand us up, and she
is very weak, but we somehow make it out of the park and walk the few blocks
home. Neither of us speaks as we
travel. We make it to the loft and I
pick her up, barely an effort, and carry her up the stairs. Mark is already there with food waiting for
us. He meets me at the door and we both
carry Mimi to the old beat up couch we found with a sign that said 'Free to
Good Home' and lay her down. I'm reminded
of that Christmas Eve a few years ago. I try and step away, but she holds on, even with her weak grip.
"No,
don't." Her voice is soft but stern,
and I do as she says. Mark comes over
with some soup that he heated up and I help Mimi sit up and try and force her
to eat some. She won't look me in the
eyes, but at the same time, she won't let me go. A part of our bodies are in contact every moment. Mark lurks around, looking uncomfortable
until he finally announces he is going to go visit Collins. Mimi perks up at the mention of her old
friend's name, "Collins, how is he?"
"He's doing
ok," I answer her, it wasn't the complete truth, but she didn't need to
worry. Collins had caught a common cold
a few weeks ago, which developed to pneumonia and he hasn't really
recovered. He hasn't been up to leaving
his apartment, so Mark and I have been making daily trips to visit him.
"Only
ok? What's wrong?" She finally looks at me and I try and mask
the truth in my face, but she sees right through me. "Roger, tell me."
"He's been
sick, but he's getting better." I push her hair out of her face and behind her
ear. "No need for you to worry."
She tries
to stand, "I want to go see him." She
loses her balance before she is upright, and falls back into the chair.
"Not until
you are feeling better ok? Mark will
fill him in, don't worry." I look at
her delicate features and just feel the need to take care of her, to love her. Before I realize it I am reaching out and
touching her cheek and she puts her hand over mine, finally looking me in the
eyes. "Mimi, I'm sorry, I shouldn't
have let you go."
She smiles
at me and shakes her head, "Forget
regret, right?" She grips my hand and
removes it from her face, entwining our fingers together. I nod in agreement, and I'm about to say
something but she brings her other hand and places a finger over my mouth. "Shh, no more apologies or excuses. I know, I understand." She leans over to me and finds my mouth with
her lips and I close my eyes and let the feelings I repressed for so long flow
out. We don't allow ourselves to speak,
afraid of the many realities that could easily break this spell. The rest of the night is spent rediscovering
each other, our bodies, our scents, our cravings and needs. The only words uttered before falling asleep
in each other's arms were 'I love you' spoken by me.
I wake up
to find myself alone. I sit up
suddenly, "Mimi?" I rush out of the
room and look around our small loft. Mark is sleeping on the couch, the bathroom door is wide open and Mimi
is nowhere to be found. I do notice
something else missing. Where my guitar
once sat, there is nothing. It only takes
me seconds to realize what happened to it. I fall back into a chair, berating myself for being so stupid and letting
her in again. I know better, I should
have been up front with her. I had
myself convinced that she came back to me to get help, to finally clean up. All she wanted was some food and a warm body
to sleep next to. I push the pile of
books sitting on the table onto the floor violently, standing up and kicking
the chair. Mark sprouts up from the
couch.
"Roger,
what's wrong?" He rushes over to me and
pulls me over to the couch. The anger
inside of me is too strong and I push him away, causing him to lose his steps
and fall back onto the table. He stands
again, "She's gone, isn't she?" He
looks as sad and disappointed as I feel.
I nod
slightly, "She took my guitar." I
answer solemnly as I point to the empty space where its home once was. In disbelief he walks over and stands over
the now barren spot on the floor.
"Holy shit,
are you sure?" He looks up at me, not
wanting to believe.
"No, it
fucking walked away, of course I'm sure. Jesus, Mark…"
"I don't know, maybe you
forgot it somewhere, or maybe…" He gives up, finally believing the truth. "Shit, Roger, I'm sorry." He shakes his head and goes back towards the
couch, stopping at the folding table. "No… no… she didn't." He starts
frantically tossing papers aside and drops to the floor looking through the
pile that I knocked over.
"What?" I have a feeling what he is going to say,
but I can't let myself consider the possibility.
"My camera.
I put it on the table last night when I got back." He looks up at me with terror in his eyes, "It's gone."
