This time Mimi saw herself and her mother, both clad in black, in the front pew of a somber-looking church. Her father's funeral.
The occasion had been bittersweet for the six-year-old, though she never admitted this. As unfortunate as her father's premature death had been, the young girl knew that it ensured the end of her beatings. The memory of feeling happy at her father's funeral still brought a pang of guilt to Mimi's heart. She had loved her father, or at least, she had tried to, but she still couldn't help feeling relieved that he was gone.
In the pew Mrs. Marquez was crying silently. She too felt guilty, but not for the same reasons as her daughter. She knew that she had dishonored her husband and that her love had never been genuine. She had met her husband as a teenager and married him when she found out that she was pregnant. Both she and her daughter felt most sad that day because they were not truly sad and felt they should have been.
In the tunnel Mimi remembered how her father had died. Just as everyone knew he would eventually. He basically drank himself to death--liver failure. The funeral, of course, talked about Mimi's father only in the most positive light. A loving husband. A caring father. A good person. Mimi, at that time, had tried to pretend that these words were true.
While Mimi continued to concentrate on trying to feel sad, her mother was experiencing a revelation. For the first time, she really saw her daughter's situation. Now, with no father, all Mimi had was an aloof, crack-addicted mother. She had to step up and be a role model. She had to start taking care of and loving her daughter.
Now twenty, Mimi still recalled exactly what her mother had said, though the movie continued to provide only soft music. "Mimi," Mrs. Marquez had said quietly, but definitely at the funeral, "I'm giving up my vices." Her six-year-old waited for an explanation, but none came. Mimi hadn't understood, but nodded obediently.
Mimi felt another wave of guilt overtake her as she remembered that she had recently repeated her mother's words to Roger. She felt ashamed, for, unlike her mother, she had not followed through with these words. After her mother spoke those words, she had worked to become just that--a mother. No longer a prostitute, no longer a junkie, but a caring mother with a job and a daughter.
The screen faded away immediately after Mrs. Marquez had mouthed her profound, life-changing words, and, again, Mimi was rushed to the next screen, switching back to the left side, where an early grade school memory was displayed.
