A/N: Liss, you called it.
August
"Mimi, stop ignoring me." I follow her around the apartment, filming her back.
"For the last time, turn that thing off!" She turns around and sticks her tongue out at me. "How much footage do you need, anyway?"
"I don't know, until I feel like my film is finished."
"Well if it isn't about me, you don't need to be sticking that thing in my face all the time."
I lower my arm and hold the camera to my side, "Ok, now you are starting to sound like Maureen."
"No, if I wanted to act like Maureen, I would start twirling around and posing for you." I follow her into the bedroom; she grabs a basket of laundry and pushes me out of the way. "Are you coming to the Laundromat or what?"
"Well... if a certain someone would be nice enough to do it for me, I wouldn't have to." I give her the best grin I can conjure up.
"Fat chance. Come on, let's go." I grab my laundry bag and follow her down the stairs. "Did you lock the door?" She turns back to me.
"Oh right." I drop the bag, which is stuffed with almost every piece of clothing that I own except for the pants and t-shirt I have on. The shirt I'm wearing is actually the Well Hungarians shirt that Roger gave me. I only have it on because I have nothing clean to wear. I pull out my keys and lock the door to our apartment. Yes, ours, I moved downstairs.
It happened quite innocently. The heat wave in July never broke and the loft, being the top floor, had turned into a steam bath. There was nothing I could do to cool down. I couldn't sleep, I couldn't work and I was just miserable.
Mimi somehow inherited an air conditioner from Collins and Angel and even though it was really small, it made a world of difference. I just started hanging out downstairs, then I started working downstairs, and then I started sleeping downstairs. After a few weeks, most of my belongings had found their way down the two flights of stairs, and Mimi started calling me her roommate.
Problem is, she only has one bedroom.
So I have been sleeping with her. But not sleeping with her, we just share the bed. The nights are strange in that room though. The first night I stayed there, we were hanging out in her room, since that is where the air conditioner is, and we were just talking. The conversation, like most we have, centered on Roger. What made him act like that, where did we think he was, what was he doing, and reminiscing about the past. Something one of us said or thought made Mimi burst into tears. She lay face down on the bed, covered her face and sobbed. My initial reaction was to comfort her. I started by rubbing her back lightly, but as she got more upset, I lay next to her and held her. Soon she turned over and nuzzled my arms. We fell asleep that way, and have every night since then.
The way we talk about him, it is almost as if he is dead. Neither of us has heard from him since the night he left, and we really don't expect too. The Roger we knew and loved left long before that night. With that mentality, we have given ourselves permission to become closer. Mimi has quickly filled the void of best friend that Roger vacated, but she has also filled another void.
Every night, I watch her fall asleep in the moonlight. The nights seem safer now, more comfortable. As the nights pass by, my fingers have become more familiar with the texture of her hair, the curves of her hips, even the slight slant of her neck. Her lips have found their way to mine, at first, small, short, sweet, comforting kisses, but soon changing to longer, deeper kisses filled with yearning and need.
Mimi has been telling me she loves me for years now. But there is something different about the way she says, "I love you, Mark," as she drifts off into sleep. As I sit up each night, running my fingers through her curls, I have to wonder if those words have changed meaning. I also have to wonder if they have changed for me. Do I want to be loved by Mimi? Do I want to love her? Do I already, and have I always?
By the light of day, things are different. We go back to being buddies, comrades, and roommates. We laugh and joke around, but nothing ever turns serious. And nothing that happens after dark is mentioned. I'm completely fine with that, it makes the guilt that is building in my stomach seem more tolerable.
"Mark, come on." I follow her out of the building and we walk down the street together. To people passing by, we must look like an odd pair. Mimi, with her tight, short skirt, and small top, lots of makeup and jewelry, and me, dressed in a t-shirt and jeans, hair sticking up in all directions, badly in need of a shave and a haircut.
We are quite different after all. I grew up in one of the richest towns in New York, in a house the size of the street we now live on. Mimi grew up in the Bronx, in a fourth floor walkup, filled with many brothers and sisters, and her single mother. Until I left home, I never wanted for anything. Mimi never had anything she wanted. I grew up listening to bands consisting of four white guys; Mimi grew up listening and dancing to Latin music, never really developing a taste for rock.
In one of our late night talks, Mimi admitted to me that she never liked Roger's band, or the music they played. "I could listen to that boy sing for hours, especially when he was singing just to me, but add the electric guitar and drums, and it is just noise." She didn't look at me as she spoke, "I never told him, of course. I went to all his gigs, well, the ones he wanted me to go to, without complaint."
"I didn't like them either." I admitted. "Never had. He had so much more potential than he was getting with that band."
"Well maybe he is off somewhere, writing his own music." As she spoke, she moved closer to me and rested her head on my chest.
We turn the corner to the Laundromat but are stopped by a small crowd circled around a struggle between two men. We stand and watch for a few seconds, trying to balance our heavy loads, trying to figure out how to get inside, without interfering. One of the men, the larger of the two, violently punches the other in the face, knocking him to the ground. He continues pounding on him, not stopping for a second. No one in the crowd moves to stop him.
The man receiving the punches looks as if he as lost consciousness. The big guy doesn't even care, he continues punching. Mimi turns her back to keep from watching, and without thinking I drop my bag and move through the crowd towards them. The man punching barely notices me as I try and pull him away. Between punches I am able to finally get him to stumble back a bit, allowing the injured guy to move out of the way. The bigger one turns to me.
"Mind your own business." He pushes me, knocking me back, but I keep my grounding.
"Mark! Get over here, you stupid idiot!" I hear Mimi yell above the crowd.
The large man looks over at her and I see him size her up. "That girl is too hot to be with you, Mark."
"Just leave us alone."
I turn to walk away, satisfied that I stopped him from killing the other man. I notice out of the corner of my eye, that a few people have pulled him up against the wall and are helping him.
"Hey kid, you are the one that butted in. Hey! I'm not done talking to you." I feel a large hand on my shoulder forcing me to turn around. I look up at him, meeting his gaze, trying to stare him down, but all I stare down is his fist flying towards my face.
I fall back and black out for a few minutes. The next thing I know, Mimi is holding me, crying and speaking Spanish to a Police Officer.
"Mimi?"
"Mark, baby, you ok?" I try and focus on her, but I really can't. I'm not able to open one my eyes. "An ambulance is on its way honey."
"No, no, I'm fine. I can't afford..." The pain is getting to be too much. I close my eyes completely.
"Baby, wake up. Come on, you can't leave me." I feel her stroke my good cheek and then warmth on the side of my face. The warm wetness forms a trail that lands at my lips. I try to return the kisses the best I can, but she laughs nervously and pulls away. I open my eyes, and see the sun blaring down at us. As the sirens of an ambulance in the distance become louder and louder, I reach up and push Mimi's hair behind her ears. I watch her, the best I can, in the sunlight.
August
"Mimi, stop ignoring me." I follow her around the apartment, filming her back.
"For the last time, turn that thing off!" She turns around and sticks her tongue out at me. "How much footage do you need, anyway?"
"I don't know, until I feel like my film is finished."
"Well if it isn't about me, you don't need to be sticking that thing in my face all the time."
I lower my arm and hold the camera to my side, "Ok, now you are starting to sound like Maureen."
"No, if I wanted to act like Maureen, I would start twirling around and posing for you." I follow her into the bedroom; she grabs a basket of laundry and pushes me out of the way. "Are you coming to the Laundromat or what?"
"Well... if a certain someone would be nice enough to do it for me, I wouldn't have to." I give her the best grin I can conjure up.
"Fat chance. Come on, let's go." I grab my laundry bag and follow her down the stairs. "Did you lock the door?" She turns back to me.
"Oh right." I drop the bag, which is stuffed with almost every piece of clothing that I own except for the pants and t-shirt I have on. The shirt I'm wearing is actually the Well Hungarians shirt that Roger gave me. I only have it on because I have nothing clean to wear. I pull out my keys and lock the door to our apartment. Yes, ours, I moved downstairs.
It happened quite innocently. The heat wave in July never broke and the loft, being the top floor, had turned into a steam bath. There was nothing I could do to cool down. I couldn't sleep, I couldn't work and I was just miserable.
Mimi somehow inherited an air conditioner from Collins and Angel and even though it was really small, it made a world of difference. I just started hanging out downstairs, then I started working downstairs, and then I started sleeping downstairs. After a few weeks, most of my belongings had found their way down the two flights of stairs, and Mimi started calling me her roommate.
Problem is, she only has one bedroom.
So I have been sleeping with her. But not sleeping with her, we just share the bed. The nights are strange in that room though. The first night I stayed there, we were hanging out in her room, since that is where the air conditioner is, and we were just talking. The conversation, like most we have, centered on Roger. What made him act like that, where did we think he was, what was he doing, and reminiscing about the past. Something one of us said or thought made Mimi burst into tears. She lay face down on the bed, covered her face and sobbed. My initial reaction was to comfort her. I started by rubbing her back lightly, but as she got more upset, I lay next to her and held her. Soon she turned over and nuzzled my arms. We fell asleep that way, and have every night since then.
The way we talk about him, it is almost as if he is dead. Neither of us has heard from him since the night he left, and we really don't expect too. The Roger we knew and loved left long before that night. With that mentality, we have given ourselves permission to become closer. Mimi has quickly filled the void of best friend that Roger vacated, but she has also filled another void.
Every night, I watch her fall asleep in the moonlight. The nights seem safer now, more comfortable. As the nights pass by, my fingers have become more familiar with the texture of her hair, the curves of her hips, even the slight slant of her neck. Her lips have found their way to mine, at first, small, short, sweet, comforting kisses, but soon changing to longer, deeper kisses filled with yearning and need.
Mimi has been telling me she loves me for years now. But there is something different about the way she says, "I love you, Mark," as she drifts off into sleep. As I sit up each night, running my fingers through her curls, I have to wonder if those words have changed meaning. I also have to wonder if they have changed for me. Do I want to be loved by Mimi? Do I want to love her? Do I already, and have I always?
By the light of day, things are different. We go back to being buddies, comrades, and roommates. We laugh and joke around, but nothing ever turns serious. And nothing that happens after dark is mentioned. I'm completely fine with that, it makes the guilt that is building in my stomach seem more tolerable.
"Mark, come on." I follow her out of the building and we walk down the street together. To people passing by, we must look like an odd pair. Mimi, with her tight, short skirt, and small top, lots of makeup and jewelry, and me, dressed in a t-shirt and jeans, hair sticking up in all directions, badly in need of a shave and a haircut.
We are quite different after all. I grew up in one of the richest towns in New York, in a house the size of the street we now live on. Mimi grew up in the Bronx, in a fourth floor walkup, filled with many brothers and sisters, and her single mother. Until I left home, I never wanted for anything. Mimi never had anything she wanted. I grew up listening to bands consisting of four white guys; Mimi grew up listening and dancing to Latin music, never really developing a taste for rock.
In one of our late night talks, Mimi admitted to me that she never liked Roger's band, or the music they played. "I could listen to that boy sing for hours, especially when he was singing just to me, but add the electric guitar and drums, and it is just noise." She didn't look at me as she spoke, "I never told him, of course. I went to all his gigs, well, the ones he wanted me to go to, without complaint."
"I didn't like them either." I admitted. "Never had. He had so much more potential than he was getting with that band."
"Well maybe he is off somewhere, writing his own music." As she spoke, she moved closer to me and rested her head on my chest.
We turn the corner to the Laundromat but are stopped by a small crowd circled around a struggle between two men. We stand and watch for a few seconds, trying to balance our heavy loads, trying to figure out how to get inside, without interfering. One of the men, the larger of the two, violently punches the other in the face, knocking him to the ground. He continues pounding on him, not stopping for a second. No one in the crowd moves to stop him.
The man receiving the punches looks as if he as lost consciousness. The big guy doesn't even care, he continues punching. Mimi turns her back to keep from watching, and without thinking I drop my bag and move through the crowd towards them. The man punching barely notices me as I try and pull him away. Between punches I am able to finally get him to stumble back a bit, allowing the injured guy to move out of the way. The bigger one turns to me.
"Mind your own business." He pushes me, knocking me back, but I keep my grounding.
"Mark! Get over here, you stupid idiot!" I hear Mimi yell above the crowd.
The large man looks over at her and I see him size her up. "That girl is too hot to be with you, Mark."
"Just leave us alone."
I turn to walk away, satisfied that I stopped him from killing the other man. I notice out of the corner of my eye, that a few people have pulled him up against the wall and are helping him.
"Hey kid, you are the one that butted in. Hey! I'm not done talking to you." I feel a large hand on my shoulder forcing me to turn around. I look up at him, meeting his gaze, trying to stare him down, but all I stare down is his fist flying towards my face.
I fall back and black out for a few minutes. The next thing I know, Mimi is holding me, crying and speaking Spanish to a Police Officer.
"Mimi?"
"Mark, baby, you ok?" I try and focus on her, but I really can't. I'm not able to open one my eyes. "An ambulance is on its way honey."
"No, no, I'm fine. I can't afford..." The pain is getting to be too much. I close my eyes completely.
"Baby, wake up. Come on, you can't leave me." I feel her stroke my good cheek and then warmth on the side of my face. The warm wetness forms a trail that lands at my lips. I try to return the kisses the best I can, but she laughs nervously and pulls away. I open my eyes, and see the sun blaring down at us. As the sirens of an ambulance in the distance become louder and louder, I reach up and push Mimi's hair behind her ears. I watch her, the best I can, in the sunlight.