The loft becomes a dreadfully sober place throughout the next seven days

The loft becomes a dreadfully sober place throughout the next seven days. Mark has barely said a complete sentence to me since Mimi left, and I don't blame him. I know he doesn't hold me accountable for what Mimi did, but he is mourning the loss of his prized possession, as well as his friend. Luckily, Collins was able to call an acquaintance and get Mark access to the film lab at NYU, so my friend has been disappearing from the loft for hours at a time. Probably a good thing really, at least his still is getting work done. Hiding in the lab, instead of behind the camera.

I haven't really left the loft, except on that first day. As soon as Mark and I were finished being angry and then pitying ourselves, we went our separate ways. Mark went to try and find Mimi, and I went to local pawnshops to try and find our stuff. Mark found Mimi surrounded by a group of people in the park, and he told my gravely that my old dealer had his arm around her. He didn't even approach her, knowing that it was a lost cause. My luck wasn't any better; I found our camera and guitar, not even on display yet at the third store I went to. I explained to the guy there that it had been stolen from us, but he wouldn't relent. The price he was charging for either items was much more than Mark or I had, but I knew I had to get the at least the camera back.

So that is what I have been doing since, trying to get money. I'm sitting on the couch, with the phone on my lap, debating the improvable. Not my only choice left, but realistically the best one. I've decided to call Benny and ask for a job. I know I can make a lot in a short amount of time and get Mark's camera back and then my Fender. Still, I have been sitting in this position for over an hour, willing myself to pick up the phone, but every time I do, I think there has to be a better way.

All this obsessing over money has preoccupied me from thinking about Mimi. But as I sit here deliberating if I should call Benny or not, my mind goes to her, and this time I can't fight it. Being with her last week was amazing, those feelings that escaped, which I have since tried to put away, were ones so familiar yet so new. I am craving her, needing her and wanting her. I thought we could spend one magical night together and fix everything in the morning. I felt the love in her touch; she couldn't pretend that, I know it wasn't an act. She must have gotten herself in a desperate situation to do what she did. I believe my Mimi wouldn't have done that, she must have owed money or been afraid of someone. Thinking about her makes me want to go and search for her, demand an explanation and offer her my help, but I know I played it wrong last time, and doubt that I could ever do it right. Truth is, I've realized I may have lost her forever.

I remove the phone from my lap and go over to our kitchenette and take my AZT. I hold the bottle and stare at it. This damn disease they tell me I have, that they tell me I'm dying from, but yet I feel so healthy and normal, though not normal for me. The old Roger used to go out and have fun; this one sits around and mopes all day. Then I think about Collins, who each day is getting weaker, but yet doesn't regret a single minute of his life. I have spent the last three years regretting every decision I ever made. I have only truly loved two people, and one I know I will never get back. But the other is out there, and I know she loves me too.

I go back over to the couch and try to remind myself why I was fighting so hard to stay healthy. All I do is sit around this loft and wait for something to happen, but it never does. I don't allow myself to go out like I used to, afraid of the temptation. It was easier when I was with Mimi, she would go to work at night and I would stay here and wait for her to return, but knowing she was coming back to me, made the lonely nights more bearable. Mark was here of course, he was never into the bar scene, but all we did was work on our respective projects, once in a while falling into a good conversation, but mostly keeping to ourselves.

Even the band I started when I came back from Santa Fe didn't last long because I was reluctant to book us in any of my old clubs. I have built a wall around myself, only allowing those I deemed 'safe' to come in. It is a wonder that I let Mimi in at all, but really, how could I resist? I close my eyes and again long for her. It seems such a waste to me that she is somewhere nearby, but yet we can't be together. Or could we?

Why am I keeping myself away from her? Why am I keeping myself from getting high, something that I used to honestly enjoy. April, the drugs, and my guitar used to be the center of my universe. Mark, in his own way was there to, just not in the direct center. Still, April took herself from me, and I decided to deprive myself of heroin… deprive… is that the word I mean? In a way, it is. So then Mimi became my universe, and I pushed her away. It occurs to me that I could get my old life back. All it would take was for me to walk out that door and find Mimi. I stare at the door, trying to remind myself why I stayed locked inside for so long. Mark isn't here to convince me to stay, only my rational side, which is quickly losing the battle. The desire for Mimi, and the whole world she can reintroduce me to, is almost hypnotizing as I grab my jacket and walk out the door.

It doesn't take me long to find her, and as I approach her, I almost turn around, until she notices me, and our eyes meet. We walk towards each other, and it is almost as if she knows why I am there, not to try and take her away, but to invite myself into her world. She reaches out and takes my hand, looking much stronger than she did last week, though the same hollowness is in her eyes. She leads me back to the group she was with, some of them are familiar to me, and the others are new. "Everyone, this is Roger, my boyfriend." She squeezes my hand and looks up at me, "Right?" I nod, remaining silent, just reveling in the fact that I'm with Mimi and nervous about this decision I have made, knowing there is little chance that I will turn back now.

The group welcomes me with little notice and before I realize it a needle is passed to me. I look over at Mimi, "It's ok Roger, we're all positive here." Again, I nod, terrified to speak. I insert the needle into my arm and before I press the plunger, I close my eyes and try and think of any reason why I shouldn't, but none come to me. Mimi notices my apprehension and touches my arm, "Are you sure, Roger? You don't have to."

"Yeah, I do." I push the plunger, letting the warm sensation of the heroin enter my veins. It only takes seconds for the feeling to fill my body, the sense of warmth and numbness and inhibition. It is as good as the first time I took it, because it practically is. I remove the needle and pick up Mimi and spin her around, kissing her. I don't want to let her go, I don't want to stop and think about what I just did, just let myself enjoy the high. Mimi grabs my arm and leads me away from the group, giggling. We find a spot in the park to be alone and permit ourselves to get lost in each other. Everything thing looks and feels different, less bitter. I almost get angry for depriving myself for as long as I have, but I don't have the ability to feel anger at the moment. Just love and lust for Mimi, and the warm numbing sensation in my veins

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