Reviews are the food of life! I know people have been reading. I have a support services account. I get a hit count and it's about 10 times the number of reviews. And that's just for the latest chapter. More reviews mean a happy author and chapters come more quickly when the author is happy. Just because I've been able to post one every day or so doesn't mean it will always be like that. So please, take the time to review. Reviews really are the food of life and it's the polite thing to do. Thank you and enjoy…
Peace
-elodie
Wisp
Chapter 05
"January 5th, two PM, Eastern Standard Time. Our Mimi has left us and gone on to a better place," Mark murmured to the camera. He scanned the rows of pews, mostly empty, before he sat in between Winnie and Roger in the third pew. A priest murmured a few words about their Mimi Marquez. Mark turned off his camera, holding it in his lap with shaking hands.
It didn't sound right hearing a total stranger talking about their Mimi. He had no idea what she was like, who she was, what she'd been through. But her mother had insisted on having it in a Catholic church and Mark didn't feel like putting up a fight.
Next to him, Roger sobbed. Maureen was actually praying. She'd knelt on the floor, holding her forehead against her locked hands. Joanne stared straight ahead, her back rigid and straight. Collins was silently crying. Winnie had curled up in the corner, not crying, but shivering.
"'Twas the twelfth day of Christmas and my true love gave to me…" Mark whispered. Winnie glanced up at him. "I can never remember what the twelfth day brings."
Winnie leaned her head on his shoulder, still shivering. "I can't either." She thought about it for a second. It was the twelfth day after all.
It was the twelfth day of Christmas, some sort of holiday with kings or something… She could be getting milking maids and lords a' leaping, ladies dancing, geese a' laying, swans a swimming, five golden rings, all from her true love. Instead she was shivering inside a creepy old church, a Catholic church for that matter, with people she barely knew. Sure, they were nice, but they'd been too occupied with Mimi's death to really pay attention to her.
Except for Mark, that is. She felt his arm slide around her to try to calm her shivering and she sighed. She didn't mind that the others didn't pay attention to her. She wasn't an attention whore. She always did like to be left to her own devices. But she still yearned for camaraderie that she'd never have.
Mimi had been so nice to her. She was just a little lost kid, engulfed in the horrifying white of the hospital, and Mimi had taken her under her wing. They stayed up late into the night, Mimi talking and Winnie listening. Winnie was never much of a talker.
But now Mimi was dead…
Soon the funeral was over and she bolted out the door as fast as possible. She hated churches. They made her feel so nervous. Especially Catholic churches.
She sat down on the cold stone steps, freezing in her skirt. Mark had taken her to a second hand clothing shop to buy some black clothes for the funeral and all they could find was a thin, gauzy rayon skirt that provided no warmth. She was glad she'd worn Mark's coat. He was so nice, letting her keep it. She offered to pay for it since her blood now permanently stained it, but he refused.
Winnie curled up into a little ball, pulling her legs up to her chest and resting her chin on her knees. She rocked back and forth. It was starting to snow…
She just felt so sad. That was the second person she'd known that had died in the past two years. First Louis, now Mimi… She felt so alone. She searched through the coat's pocket to see if Mark's razor was still there. Empty… There was a broken bottle on the sidewalk.
She got up and crept down the stairs, picking up the largest piece she could find, examining it. Could she…? She shook her head and went to throw it down, but decided to pocket it. No one would let her near any razors or anything sharp for that matter. If this sadness kept up, she'd need something…
"Winnie?"
She turned to see Mark at the top of the stairs.
"Are you OK?"
Winnie shook her head and it was then she started to cry.
Mark descended the stairs and wrapped her in a warm hug, resting his chin on top of her head. "Shh, it's OK, everything will be fine."
Winnie said nothing, her hand gripping the shard of glass in her pocket so hard that it cut into her hand and she felt warm blood seeping out of fresh wounds. She pulled her hand out of her pocket and began sobbing harder.
"Geez, Winnie…" Mark pulled out his handkerchief and wrapped it around her hand. "C'mon, let's get home. I don't feel like going to a reception, do you?" Winnie shook her head. Mark offered her a comforting smile and escorted her home, his arm wrapped around her shoulders.
* * *
Back at the loft, Mark bandaged up Winnie's cut hand. She now had a bandage on each hand, although her right one was healing nicely.
"God, what in the world did you cut yourself on?"
"This," Winnie reached into her pocket and held out the shard of glass. She refused to look at him, looking instead at her feet.
Mark took the glass and threw it out the window. "Geez, Winnie. Be smart. You don't want to do something like that."
"How do you know what I want?"
Mark sighed in frustration. "Winnie, trust me. I know what this is like. You found the razor in my pocket! What do you think it was doing there, huh? You think it was there by accident? Fucking Christ, I've been thinking about offing myself for about as long as you've been in the city. And it's just not a good idea. People care about you. Look at what people go through when someone dies. Look at Mimi's funeral."
Winnie got up from the hard chair and curled up on the couch, resting her head on the armrest. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "I kind of wondered why the razor was there. Nobody cares about me. I'm just little old Winnie, little nerdy Winnie, little punching bag Winnie, little wispy Winnie. I'm a burden to everyone. I'm not even paying part of the fucking rent, Mark. I feel like I'm worthless."
Mark knelt down in front of her, but she wouldn't open her eyes to look at him. "Winnie, people care. I care. I know Maureen does too. You should've seen how worried she was that first night at the hospital. And Mimi loved you. She told me to tell you… To tell you not to hurt yourself, that she wants to live on through you."
"But you barely know me!" Winnie's eyes burst open and she sat up, looking at him accusingly. "You don't know me! God, you'll end up abandoning me just like everyone else does."
"I won't!"
"You will!" Winnie began to cry again. "Ugh, I hate crying. Don't look at me when I cry, please… Louis always made me turn around when I cried around him…"
"Who's Louis?"
"He'd always say that crying is a weakness. No one should see you cry. You can see the person's soul when they cry, he said. If they can see your soul, they can get close to you and then if they get close to you, they can hurt you." She looked up at Mark with tear-stained eyes. "Please don't hurt me…"
"I'd never hurt you…" He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her to him, letting her cry on his shoulder. "Winnie, what makes you think I'll hurt you?"
Winnie shook her head. "I'm just being cynical. Louis always told me that to be cynical is to be invincible."
"Who's Louis?"
"He was so cynical. Questioned everything. I told him that I wanted to grow up to be just like him and he would tell me that he'd died before he saw that happen."
"Winnie," Mark grabbed her firmly by her shoulders and pulled her away from him slightly, so that it was almost impossible for her to look away. "Who's Louis?"
Winnie blinked, trying to avoid Mark's eyes. "Louis was my brother. He was always better at everything. He was a goddamn genius, athletic, handsome, popular. Every time I tried to emulate him, I failed miserably. God, I can't even kill myself the right way. He was so brave."
"I think you're brave. You've obviously put up with a lot of shit in your life. How could he be braver than you?"
"He cut deeper."
Mark's eyes widened. "Wait, cut deeper? You mean he…"
Winnie nodded. "He was so cryptic that day. He told me to get the hell out of there. To go away to Boston or New York or Baltimore. Not to ever go into that bathroom. But I just had to pee so badly that night that I couldn't hold it any longer. So I opened the door and he was there… He was in the tub but it wasn't filled with water. Just him and his blood. The next morning he got a letter saying he'd been accepted to Harvard. And the next day one came from Yale. And the next, from MIT."
She was shivering again and Mark pulled her up off the couch. "You look exhausted. You need some sleep." He led her to Collins' old room, her room, and tucked her into bed. "Winnie, people do love you. No one's going to abandon you any more."
"I don't believe you," She shook her head. "I don't want to be alone right now. Will you stay with me?"
"Of course," He moved to sit into the old easy chair in the corner but Winnie shook her head.
"No, I need you to hold me…"
Mark obliged, climbing into bed under the covers, and held her to him. She shivered for a few minutes more, but was beginning to warm. Mark held her bandaged hands in his, warming them by massaging them gently so as not to hurt her. She cuddled up to him and fell asleep, finally peaceful. Mark stared across the pillow at her sleeping face. She didn't look so cold anymore, but she did have dark circles under her eyes still. He planted a kiss on her forehead before falling asleep himself, unaware that, outside the window, snow was beginning to fall.