A/N: I really love this chapter. I'm not sure what that means, since the rule seems to be that everyone loves the chapters that the author hates. :)
It only gets worse from here, folks. But if you hang in there (and are kind enough to review), I promise all will work out in the end.
Thanks to Lola and Dulcey for the merciless stalking on the last part of this chapter. Yes, I finally got them off of the windowsill (and without them falling out!). Thank God.
You both need to go write now. :P
To Lauren. Just...thank you. :)
**
[5]
**
[Roger]
The door slammed, and I knew that Mimi was home. I'd gotten Mark's note from the night before, saying that Mimi had needed to talk and was crashing up at the loft for the night. Honestly, I was glad that Mimi was talking to someone-she'd been strangely silent toward me for the past two weeks. More and more of our conversations simply dissolved into arguments that ended with me slamming doors and closing myself off somewhere with my guitar, and Mimi either going for a walk or ignoring me for the next two days. Usually some combination of the two. Back to normal, basically. Everything had been so perfect only a month ago when Mimi had been going through the worst of her withdrawal.
I was such a fool to think it would last.
I set my guitar down carefully on the bed and stood to go see how Mimi was doing.
"Mimi?" I called. "That you?"
"Yep!" I heard her yell. Walking into the kitchen, I found her rummaging through the cabinets, AZT and a glass of water already laid out in front of her.
"Baby, where's the aspirin?" she asked distractedly, not even glancing over at me.
I opened the cabinet over the stove and silently handed the bottle to her. "Thanks," she replied, still not meeting my gaze. Must still be angry about the night before, I sighed. I moved around behind her and snaked my arms around her waist. Ducking my head, I began to trail kisses down her neck.
"I'm sorry," I murmured, moving down to her shoulder. "I'll make it up to you."
"Roger, stop," Mimi said roughly, pulling herself away from me and stalking into the other room.
"Jesus, Mimi! What is your problem lately?"
"Nothing!" she shouted back. She visibly sighed, then forced a smile. "I'm fine, Roger. I just really need a shower. We'll talk in a few minutes, okay?"
I nodded, completely bewildered. What in the hell was going on with her? Mimi had never acted like this. At least, not since...Benny. Oh, God. Fear and hatred coursed through me. Could she be seeing him again? How...?
Mark. Mark would know. He had that way about him that seemed to cause everyone to tell him their problems. If anyone knew what was going on, it would be Mark.
I was out the door before I even realized it. With any luck, I'd have something concrete before Mimi was even out of the shower.
**
The door to the loft roughly jerked open.
It had been an agonizing ten minutes since Mimi had made her grand departure and I was still collapsed on the floor, staring blankly at the wall.
Oh my God, what was I going to do?
I really wish I could say that I was so drunk that I didn't know what I was doing, but I can't. The truth is that I knew exactly what I was doing. I risked my life and my best friend last night. And you know what? In the end, it was worth it. To feel alive when she held me in her arms, to feel her soft kisses against my skin....to feel anything but numb-anything at all. I welcome the pain; at least it's a reminder that I'm still alive. The most amazing part of this whole fucked up scenario is that I love her. She's my best friend's girlfriend. A drug addicted stripper. HIV positive. This whole situation is so twisted that it's almost starting to make some sense.
"Mark? What the fuck are you doing on the floor?"
Roger. Oh, Jesus Christ. This could be bad.
Hell, I slept with his girlfriend. By my calculations, I deserved anything he could dish out.
"Um, nothing," I mumbled, pulling myself to my feet. I avoided Roger's worried gaze and walked over to the coffee table, picking up the empty bottle of Absolut and the glass that still had Mimi's lipstick print on the rim. I sighed, remembering the feel of her lips on mine and the waxy taste of her lipstick. God, even I hated myself.
Ignoring the fact that Roger was following me around the room, I walked into the kitchen and set the things down on the counter. I filled a new glass with water, and went to take a drink.
"I need to you be honest with me," Roger implored. I nodded, still not meeting his eyes. He ran a shaky hand through his spiky blonde hair and continued. "I think Mimi's seeing someone else."
I choked on my water, sending myself into a coughing fit. Fabulous, Mark. Way to play it cool.
"Jesus, Mark. What in the hell is wrong with you this morning?" Roger asked, smacking me on the back a couple of times, as if it would help. I quickly stepped away from him, instead moving back into the living room. "So what did you two talk about last night?"
God, he just wouldn't stop this morning, would he? It wasn't like I didn't feel guilty as hell without him coming here and asking questions. I decided to go with a perfectly noncommittal answer.
"If Mimi wants you to know, she'll tell you. Its really not up to me to say anything, Rog."
I was such a lying son of a bitch. But really, what was I supposed to say? 'Hey Rog, your girlfriend sure is amazing in bed...Oh, and by the way I may have fallen in love with her'? I'm sure that would go over well. Plus, as far as I knew, Roger didn't even realize that Mimi and I had become friends while he was gone. He probably thought we were barely acquaintances.
Roger sat down on the couch, leaning forward and looking at his hands. "She's just acting really strangely. Things haven't been right between us for a couple of weeks, and this morning she just seemed...distant. I don't know. I was hoping she'd told you something last night."
She told me lots of things last night, Roger, I thought sadly. None of which you'd want to hear.
"Not a lot," I replied, hating myself more with every word that came out of my mouth. I'd never been a liar. Of course, I'd never had a real need to lie until, well, now. "She said she was worried about the two of you. We talked a little, drank a little, then she fell asleep."
Well, that was partially the truth. It just left out the one crucial event of the evening.
"Okay," he said, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "I guess I should go talk to her."
"You should," I affirmed, silently pleading with him to leave me alone.
He stood up, crossing over to the door. "Thanks, Mark," he called, closing the door behind him. I heard the thundering of his heavy boots running downstairs and walked over to the door. Throwing the deadbolt on the door, I walked back over to the couch. My legs gave out and I tumbled onto it in a mass of tears.
Oh my God, what had I done?
**
I sat on the grungy bathroom floor, a knee pulled up to my chest, furiously scrubbing away at the bright red nail polish that had been on my toes. I frowned, noticing how the remover had barely made a dent in the color. Long-wearing was right.
Angel had left me all of her makeup when she had died, so I now had quite an impressive array of cosmetics and nail polish. I found myself missing her more than ever before when I got home this morning. I wished I could go over to her apartment and talk about all of my problems over a cup of tea. Angel gave some damned good advice. I wished she could give me some kind of guidance today.
After getting out of the shower, I decided to repaint my toenails. Funny how something so little and insignificant could make a previously unbearable day a little more normal. I'd try anything to be just a little more in control of this highly fucked up situation. Anything to get Mark off of my mind. Strange how someone who barely registered in my mind as more than an afterthought a day or two ago could now occupy my mind so completely that I couldn't seem to think of anyone or anything else.
The door to my apartment slammed. Roger. Great.
"Mimi?"
"I'm in the bathroom, Rog," I called, holding my newly painted foot up to the light. Hmm. Ruby Chrome, the bottle read. Well, it was certainly a change.
"What are you doing in there?"
I rolled my eyes. What did he think I was doing? "Painting my nails."
"Can I come in? I really wanted to talk to you."
I paused. "I'm not dressed."
Roger choked out a laugh. "Since when does that matter?"
He had a point. He was my boyfriend. He'd seen me naked hundreds of times. Hell, half of the city had seen me naked, or at least close to it. Sudden modesty wasn't a good way to avoid suspicion. "Hold on a sec," I replied, grabbing my robe off of the back of the door. Shrugging into the old, ugly red housecoat that I had inherited from my mother, I opened the door, then sat back down on the floor.
Roger sat down on the bathroom counter, directly in front of me. His eyes looked...sad. Defeated, maybe. God, I hoped Mark hadn't told him anything.
"I went to see Mark," he began, looking down at my newly painted toes. I moved to paint my other foot, trying to ignore the shaking in my hand and keep the panic out of my voice.
"Oh?"
He nodded. My hand careened wildly to the side, getting a glop of nail polish on my ankle. Great. Way to avoid suspicion, Mimi.
Roger jumped off of the counter. "Jesus, Mimi. Let me do that." Sitting down in front of me, he grabbed my ankle and placed my foot in his lap, then began painting my toes for me.
I found myself staring at him. He was such a sweet, kind man. Troubled, yes. Quick temper? Certainly. But behind that entire tough exterior was one of the best people I'd run across in my short life. But no matter how much I tried, I couldn't seem to make myself fall in love with him again. I just couldn't make myself hate him either.
He paused, looking up at me with the brush in hand. "It's not working, is it Mim?"
My face fell. "I don't know."
He shook his head, going back to his painting. "I think I should move back to the loft."
Oh God. Poor Mark. He was so much less capable of handling this situation than I was. At least I was experienced at being the cheating one in a relationship. I knew how to deal with the aftermath, or at least was vaguely familiar with the lying and denial that always went along with these situations. Mark...had probably never done anything wrong in his life until last night.
"I don't know if that will help anything," I responded, looking at the chipped nail polish on my fingers. Maybe I should repaint them too. Anything to keep my mind off of my rapidly crumbling life.
"I don't know if it will either, Mimi, but we've got to try something," he paused. "We're falling apart. We both know it."
If I wasn't so overrun by emotions at the moment, I'd be more impressed with the fact that Roger was confronting a problem for once in his life. Of course, the idea that I meant enough to him for him to deal with something scared me, to say the very least.
"I don't want to lose you, Rog," I mumbled, feeling myself begin to cry. Damnit, I'd promised myself I wasn't going to cry any more today. There goes that one.
He capped the nail polish, then roughly pulled me into a hug. "I don't either, baby."
I laid my head on Roger's chest and sniffled, hating myself for being so unintentionally cruel. He stroked my hair, and I felt his chest begin to shake with sobs. We sat there on the floor, crying and holding each other, for almost an hour.
Finally, he got up and moved into the bedroom to start packing his things up to take to the loft. I dragged myself off of the floor and walked over to the doorway to our-my-room, wrapping my arms tightly around myself.
He looked up at me, his eyes bright from tears. "Why don't you go tell Mark what's going on,"
I nodded, grabbing some clothes off of the floor and slipping into them. As much as I dreaded seeing Mark, I dreaded watching Roger pack up what was left of our life together even more. "I'll be back in a minute," I called over my shoulder, shutting the door behind me.
.
**
"Mark! I have to talk to you; open the fucking door!"
Mimi's pounding and yelling woke me out of a sound sleep on the couch. I pulled my face out from under a pillow and looked around the room. Spotting Mimi's coat in a corner, I groaned. No, apparently the last twelve hours hadn't been a dream. Damnit. I dropped, defeated, back onto the couch.
"Mark, I swear to God, if you don't open this door...!"
I half-rolled off the couch and forced myself to walk over to the door. Rubbing at my eyes roughly, I unlocked the deadbolt then walked back over to the couch. If Mimi was in as much of a frenzy as I suspected, I was going to need to sit down for this one.
Mimi stormed in, stopping in front of me with her hands on her hips. God, with that wild-eyed look on her face she reminded me so much of Maureen. I closed my eyes. I just couldn't win today, could I?
"Roger's moving out," she announced.
"What?"
She began to pace in front of me. "He's moving out. Back up here. With you."
"Jesus," I muttered. "Could this situation get a little more fucked up?"
"I really don't see how," Mimi replied, collapsing next to me on the couch. "But I'm fairly sure that its possible."
I sighed. "So what do we do?"
She shook her head, her curly hair brushing my shoulder. "I guess we go on like nothing ever happened,"
We sat there in silence for a few minutes after that statement. I knew that I didn't want to live my life believing that last night meant nothing to me; that it was just some random occurrence no more meaningful than picking up a stranger in a bar. And, from what I could tell, it didn't fit with Mimi's plan either. She got the words out, but wasn't very convincing about it.
So what was stopping us?
"Mark, um....I know we were safe. But I really think you should get tested in a few months," she stammered softly.
Okay, that definitely was not what I was expecting. "What?"
"I'll go with you!" she added, turning to face me. "I mean..."
I eyed her suspiciously. "What are you saying?"
Mimi took my hands in her own. "God, Mark. I'm so sorry. I never should have..." she shook her head, clearly frustrated. "I was so selfish."
Where was this coming from? A few hours ago, she had loved me. She had told me 'no regrets'. What the hell? "Mimi, I don't regret a thing. It was my choice-"
"But you never should have had to..."
"Just stop," I said, squeezing her hands. "Whatever happens, we'll deal with it. We'll get through it."
Mimi pulled her hands away from me and walked over to the window, crossing her arms and looking out across the empty lot next door. She looked back at me over her shoulder, a wistful smile playing over her face.
Alright, now she was scaring me. "Mims?"
"Mark, I came up here in part to tell you that there can't be an us. There's just too many things in the way," she sighed, turning back to the window.
"What's going on with you and Roger, Mimi?" I asked, holding my head in my hands and massaging my temples.
She turned and sat down on the windowsill. Well, at least she was facing me. That alone was an improvement. "I don't know," she replied quietly, swinging her legs and looking down at her bare feet. Her voice sounded impossibly small and utterly un-Mimi. Her shoulders hunched forward. It was like the events of the past day had knocked all of the fight out of her. Gone was the Mimi who would scale the fire escape on a whim, kiss Maureen simply to make Roger jealous, or stay out all night partying. In her place was a young, scared girl whose life was spiraling wildly out of control. Against all better judgment I left my spot on the couch and moved to sit next to her on the windowsill.
She looked over at me then fidgeted with her hands, chipping away at some nail polish. "I don't think we should see each other for a while. Until we figure this out."
I nodded. "If that's what you think is best,"
Mimi stood to leave and I pulled her back to me so she was sitting on my lap. Sighing, I wrapped my arms around her waist and rested my chin on her shoulder. This could be the last time I would get to hold her and I was determined to take advantage of it.
"Mark, I have to go back downstairs," she whispered. Her voice was strangled and higher than usual from holding back tears.
"Okay," I mumbled, kissing her cheek softly. My arms slid from around her waist and limply rested at my sides. "Go, Mimi."
I didn't watch her leave. I heard the door close, and numbly stood to go straighten my room up a bit before Roger started to move back in.
**
A/N: If you only *knew* what was in the next part.... :)
It only gets worse from here, folks. But if you hang in there (and are kind enough to review), I promise all will work out in the end.
Thanks to Lola and Dulcey for the merciless stalking on the last part of this chapter. Yes, I finally got them off of the windowsill (and without them falling out!). Thank God.
You both need to go write now. :P
To Lauren. Just...thank you. :)
**
[5]
**
[Roger]
The door slammed, and I knew that Mimi was home. I'd gotten Mark's note from the night before, saying that Mimi had needed to talk and was crashing up at the loft for the night. Honestly, I was glad that Mimi was talking to someone-she'd been strangely silent toward me for the past two weeks. More and more of our conversations simply dissolved into arguments that ended with me slamming doors and closing myself off somewhere with my guitar, and Mimi either going for a walk or ignoring me for the next two days. Usually some combination of the two. Back to normal, basically. Everything had been so perfect only a month ago when Mimi had been going through the worst of her withdrawal.
I was such a fool to think it would last.
I set my guitar down carefully on the bed and stood to go see how Mimi was doing.
"Mimi?" I called. "That you?"
"Yep!" I heard her yell. Walking into the kitchen, I found her rummaging through the cabinets, AZT and a glass of water already laid out in front of her.
"Baby, where's the aspirin?" she asked distractedly, not even glancing over at me.
I opened the cabinet over the stove and silently handed the bottle to her. "Thanks," she replied, still not meeting my gaze. Must still be angry about the night before, I sighed. I moved around behind her and snaked my arms around her waist. Ducking my head, I began to trail kisses down her neck.
"I'm sorry," I murmured, moving down to her shoulder. "I'll make it up to you."
"Roger, stop," Mimi said roughly, pulling herself away from me and stalking into the other room.
"Jesus, Mimi! What is your problem lately?"
"Nothing!" she shouted back. She visibly sighed, then forced a smile. "I'm fine, Roger. I just really need a shower. We'll talk in a few minutes, okay?"
I nodded, completely bewildered. What in the hell was going on with her? Mimi had never acted like this. At least, not since...Benny. Oh, God. Fear and hatred coursed through me. Could she be seeing him again? How...?
Mark. Mark would know. He had that way about him that seemed to cause everyone to tell him their problems. If anyone knew what was going on, it would be Mark.
I was out the door before I even realized it. With any luck, I'd have something concrete before Mimi was even out of the shower.
**
The door to the loft roughly jerked open.
It had been an agonizing ten minutes since Mimi had made her grand departure and I was still collapsed on the floor, staring blankly at the wall.
Oh my God, what was I going to do?
I really wish I could say that I was so drunk that I didn't know what I was doing, but I can't. The truth is that I knew exactly what I was doing. I risked my life and my best friend last night. And you know what? In the end, it was worth it. To feel alive when she held me in her arms, to feel her soft kisses against my skin....to feel anything but numb-anything at all. I welcome the pain; at least it's a reminder that I'm still alive. The most amazing part of this whole fucked up scenario is that I love her. She's my best friend's girlfriend. A drug addicted stripper. HIV positive. This whole situation is so twisted that it's almost starting to make some sense.
"Mark? What the fuck are you doing on the floor?"
Roger. Oh, Jesus Christ. This could be bad.
Hell, I slept with his girlfriend. By my calculations, I deserved anything he could dish out.
"Um, nothing," I mumbled, pulling myself to my feet. I avoided Roger's worried gaze and walked over to the coffee table, picking up the empty bottle of Absolut and the glass that still had Mimi's lipstick print on the rim. I sighed, remembering the feel of her lips on mine and the waxy taste of her lipstick. God, even I hated myself.
Ignoring the fact that Roger was following me around the room, I walked into the kitchen and set the things down on the counter. I filled a new glass with water, and went to take a drink.
"I need to you be honest with me," Roger implored. I nodded, still not meeting his eyes. He ran a shaky hand through his spiky blonde hair and continued. "I think Mimi's seeing someone else."
I choked on my water, sending myself into a coughing fit. Fabulous, Mark. Way to play it cool.
"Jesus, Mark. What in the hell is wrong with you this morning?" Roger asked, smacking me on the back a couple of times, as if it would help. I quickly stepped away from him, instead moving back into the living room. "So what did you two talk about last night?"
God, he just wouldn't stop this morning, would he? It wasn't like I didn't feel guilty as hell without him coming here and asking questions. I decided to go with a perfectly noncommittal answer.
"If Mimi wants you to know, she'll tell you. Its really not up to me to say anything, Rog."
I was such a lying son of a bitch. But really, what was I supposed to say? 'Hey Rog, your girlfriend sure is amazing in bed...Oh, and by the way I may have fallen in love with her'? I'm sure that would go over well. Plus, as far as I knew, Roger didn't even realize that Mimi and I had become friends while he was gone. He probably thought we were barely acquaintances.
Roger sat down on the couch, leaning forward and looking at his hands. "She's just acting really strangely. Things haven't been right between us for a couple of weeks, and this morning she just seemed...distant. I don't know. I was hoping she'd told you something last night."
She told me lots of things last night, Roger, I thought sadly. None of which you'd want to hear.
"Not a lot," I replied, hating myself more with every word that came out of my mouth. I'd never been a liar. Of course, I'd never had a real need to lie until, well, now. "She said she was worried about the two of you. We talked a little, drank a little, then she fell asleep."
Well, that was partially the truth. It just left out the one crucial event of the evening.
"Okay," he said, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "I guess I should go talk to her."
"You should," I affirmed, silently pleading with him to leave me alone.
He stood up, crossing over to the door. "Thanks, Mark," he called, closing the door behind him. I heard the thundering of his heavy boots running downstairs and walked over to the door. Throwing the deadbolt on the door, I walked back over to the couch. My legs gave out and I tumbled onto it in a mass of tears.
Oh my God, what had I done?
**
I sat on the grungy bathroom floor, a knee pulled up to my chest, furiously scrubbing away at the bright red nail polish that had been on my toes. I frowned, noticing how the remover had barely made a dent in the color. Long-wearing was right.
Angel had left me all of her makeup when she had died, so I now had quite an impressive array of cosmetics and nail polish. I found myself missing her more than ever before when I got home this morning. I wished I could go over to her apartment and talk about all of my problems over a cup of tea. Angel gave some damned good advice. I wished she could give me some kind of guidance today.
After getting out of the shower, I decided to repaint my toenails. Funny how something so little and insignificant could make a previously unbearable day a little more normal. I'd try anything to be just a little more in control of this highly fucked up situation. Anything to get Mark off of my mind. Strange how someone who barely registered in my mind as more than an afterthought a day or two ago could now occupy my mind so completely that I couldn't seem to think of anyone or anything else.
The door to my apartment slammed. Roger. Great.
"Mimi?"
"I'm in the bathroom, Rog," I called, holding my newly painted foot up to the light. Hmm. Ruby Chrome, the bottle read. Well, it was certainly a change.
"What are you doing in there?"
I rolled my eyes. What did he think I was doing? "Painting my nails."
"Can I come in? I really wanted to talk to you."
I paused. "I'm not dressed."
Roger choked out a laugh. "Since when does that matter?"
He had a point. He was my boyfriend. He'd seen me naked hundreds of times. Hell, half of the city had seen me naked, or at least close to it. Sudden modesty wasn't a good way to avoid suspicion. "Hold on a sec," I replied, grabbing my robe off of the back of the door. Shrugging into the old, ugly red housecoat that I had inherited from my mother, I opened the door, then sat back down on the floor.
Roger sat down on the bathroom counter, directly in front of me. His eyes looked...sad. Defeated, maybe. God, I hoped Mark hadn't told him anything.
"I went to see Mark," he began, looking down at my newly painted toes. I moved to paint my other foot, trying to ignore the shaking in my hand and keep the panic out of my voice.
"Oh?"
He nodded. My hand careened wildly to the side, getting a glop of nail polish on my ankle. Great. Way to avoid suspicion, Mimi.
Roger jumped off of the counter. "Jesus, Mimi. Let me do that." Sitting down in front of me, he grabbed my ankle and placed my foot in his lap, then began painting my toes for me.
I found myself staring at him. He was such a sweet, kind man. Troubled, yes. Quick temper? Certainly. But behind that entire tough exterior was one of the best people I'd run across in my short life. But no matter how much I tried, I couldn't seem to make myself fall in love with him again. I just couldn't make myself hate him either.
He paused, looking up at me with the brush in hand. "It's not working, is it Mim?"
My face fell. "I don't know."
He shook his head, going back to his painting. "I think I should move back to the loft."
Oh God. Poor Mark. He was so much less capable of handling this situation than I was. At least I was experienced at being the cheating one in a relationship. I knew how to deal with the aftermath, or at least was vaguely familiar with the lying and denial that always went along with these situations. Mark...had probably never done anything wrong in his life until last night.
"I don't know if that will help anything," I responded, looking at the chipped nail polish on my fingers. Maybe I should repaint them too. Anything to keep my mind off of my rapidly crumbling life.
"I don't know if it will either, Mimi, but we've got to try something," he paused. "We're falling apart. We both know it."
If I wasn't so overrun by emotions at the moment, I'd be more impressed with the fact that Roger was confronting a problem for once in his life. Of course, the idea that I meant enough to him for him to deal with something scared me, to say the very least.
"I don't want to lose you, Rog," I mumbled, feeling myself begin to cry. Damnit, I'd promised myself I wasn't going to cry any more today. There goes that one.
He capped the nail polish, then roughly pulled me into a hug. "I don't either, baby."
I laid my head on Roger's chest and sniffled, hating myself for being so unintentionally cruel. He stroked my hair, and I felt his chest begin to shake with sobs. We sat there on the floor, crying and holding each other, for almost an hour.
Finally, he got up and moved into the bedroom to start packing his things up to take to the loft. I dragged myself off of the floor and walked over to the doorway to our-my-room, wrapping my arms tightly around myself.
He looked up at me, his eyes bright from tears. "Why don't you go tell Mark what's going on,"
I nodded, grabbing some clothes off of the floor and slipping into them. As much as I dreaded seeing Mark, I dreaded watching Roger pack up what was left of our life together even more. "I'll be back in a minute," I called over my shoulder, shutting the door behind me.
.
**
"Mark! I have to talk to you; open the fucking door!"
Mimi's pounding and yelling woke me out of a sound sleep on the couch. I pulled my face out from under a pillow and looked around the room. Spotting Mimi's coat in a corner, I groaned. No, apparently the last twelve hours hadn't been a dream. Damnit. I dropped, defeated, back onto the couch.
"Mark, I swear to God, if you don't open this door...!"
I half-rolled off the couch and forced myself to walk over to the door. Rubbing at my eyes roughly, I unlocked the deadbolt then walked back over to the couch. If Mimi was in as much of a frenzy as I suspected, I was going to need to sit down for this one.
Mimi stormed in, stopping in front of me with her hands on her hips. God, with that wild-eyed look on her face she reminded me so much of Maureen. I closed my eyes. I just couldn't win today, could I?
"Roger's moving out," she announced.
"What?"
She began to pace in front of me. "He's moving out. Back up here. With you."
"Jesus," I muttered. "Could this situation get a little more fucked up?"
"I really don't see how," Mimi replied, collapsing next to me on the couch. "But I'm fairly sure that its possible."
I sighed. "So what do we do?"
She shook her head, her curly hair brushing my shoulder. "I guess we go on like nothing ever happened,"
We sat there in silence for a few minutes after that statement. I knew that I didn't want to live my life believing that last night meant nothing to me; that it was just some random occurrence no more meaningful than picking up a stranger in a bar. And, from what I could tell, it didn't fit with Mimi's plan either. She got the words out, but wasn't very convincing about it.
So what was stopping us?
"Mark, um....I know we were safe. But I really think you should get tested in a few months," she stammered softly.
Okay, that definitely was not what I was expecting. "What?"
"I'll go with you!" she added, turning to face me. "I mean..."
I eyed her suspiciously. "What are you saying?"
Mimi took my hands in her own. "God, Mark. I'm so sorry. I never should have..." she shook her head, clearly frustrated. "I was so selfish."
Where was this coming from? A few hours ago, she had loved me. She had told me 'no regrets'. What the hell? "Mimi, I don't regret a thing. It was my choice-"
"But you never should have had to..."
"Just stop," I said, squeezing her hands. "Whatever happens, we'll deal with it. We'll get through it."
Mimi pulled her hands away from me and walked over to the window, crossing her arms and looking out across the empty lot next door. She looked back at me over her shoulder, a wistful smile playing over her face.
Alright, now she was scaring me. "Mims?"
"Mark, I came up here in part to tell you that there can't be an us. There's just too many things in the way," she sighed, turning back to the window.
"What's going on with you and Roger, Mimi?" I asked, holding my head in my hands and massaging my temples.
She turned and sat down on the windowsill. Well, at least she was facing me. That alone was an improvement. "I don't know," she replied quietly, swinging her legs and looking down at her bare feet. Her voice sounded impossibly small and utterly un-Mimi. Her shoulders hunched forward. It was like the events of the past day had knocked all of the fight out of her. Gone was the Mimi who would scale the fire escape on a whim, kiss Maureen simply to make Roger jealous, or stay out all night partying. In her place was a young, scared girl whose life was spiraling wildly out of control. Against all better judgment I left my spot on the couch and moved to sit next to her on the windowsill.
She looked over at me then fidgeted with her hands, chipping away at some nail polish. "I don't think we should see each other for a while. Until we figure this out."
I nodded. "If that's what you think is best,"
Mimi stood to leave and I pulled her back to me so she was sitting on my lap. Sighing, I wrapped my arms around her waist and rested my chin on her shoulder. This could be the last time I would get to hold her and I was determined to take advantage of it.
"Mark, I have to go back downstairs," she whispered. Her voice was strangled and higher than usual from holding back tears.
"Okay," I mumbled, kissing her cheek softly. My arms slid from around her waist and limply rested at my sides. "Go, Mimi."
I didn't watch her leave. I heard the door close, and numbly stood to go straighten my room up a bit before Roger started to move back in.
**
A/N: If you only *knew* what was in the next part.... :)
