BEFORE YOU WAKE
Chapter 22
[A/N: Okay guys, here's what's up: I've decided that I can't stand the title One Week anymore, partly because when I first started this story I never meant for it to last longer than a mere six or seven chapters and the title was suitable back then. I've decided to rename it to Before You Wake, because I think it has more significance than plain old "One Week". I'm eventually planning on adding a prologue—sometime, but never fear, this story isn't even CLOSE to being wrapped up. I haven't really decided if I want to keep it as one long novel setup, or break it into a sequel, but we'll see. I'm actually very proud of myself for continuing along with it for so long, it's a definite record for me.
Anyway, in this and a couple of the chapters to follow, you'll get to see my take on Mimi's family, so enjoy, and review. Wow, I almost have 100 reviews already! *dances*
33 love you guys.
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By the time Mimi awoke the next morning, it was significantly warmer in the apartment. Roger was gone, and as she got up to go into the kitchen to take her pills, she noticed a note tacked to the mirror in the bedroom.
Baby—
Went to get some groceries, left around 9, be back within an hour.
Love,
Roger
She half smiled, glancing at the clock on the wall. It was quarter to 10 now. He'd be back in no time. She had just settled herself on the couch with a cup of coffee when the phone started ringing. Figuring it was Mark, she reached for it lazily on the third ring.
"Hello?"
Right on time, Roger entered the loft and set the two bags of groceries onto the kitchen counter, before making his way over to Mimi. He tried to kiss her on the neck, but she pushed him away and stood up with the phone, walking away from him.
"What's wrong?" he said quietly, noticing how her face had fallen. She started carrying on the conversation in Spanish, and defeated, Roger took a seat and flicked through the tv channels instead.
Ten minutes later, Mimi hung up the phone and then silently walked over to the window, wrapping her arms around herself.
"Babe? What's wrong?" Roger asked again from the couch. Mimi turned to look at him, wiping at her eyes with the back of her hand.
"That was my…sister, Carmen. My father had a heart attack last night. In Argentina."
Roger wrapped his arms around Mimi and rested his chin on the top of her head as she buried her face in his shoulder. "Ohh. I'm sorry. I thought you didn't talk to your father?"
"I—well, I'm going, to Buenos Aires, I guess, and no, I haven't spoken to him in three years. My mother booked two tickets for me—I guess she remembered about me mentioning you. Figures I'm the last to know about everything all the time."
"I thought your parents were divorced?" Roger questioned, taking her hands in his.
"They are. Carmen, her husband, and my other sister Isabel are held up in Panama right now because of the weather. She said their flight should be leaving in an hour for Buenos Aires. My mother, my stepfather Carl my younger sister Veronica are at the airport right now. She said I have two tickets booked for the 6:30 flight, first class, tonight and that she doesn't think my father's going to make it through the next two days, at least that's what my aunt Sofia told her."
Roger's head was spinning. There were way too many names to remember and keep straight. "So wait, why's your father in Argentina?"
Mimi stared at him testily. "Here's my life in a nutshell. My father and mother were both born in Buenos Aires and married. They came to the United States right after they had me, divorcing two years after they had Veronica. My father's well, a doctor, and he's rich, so he went back to Argentina to work at the hospitals there, and my mother me, and my sisters stayed in New York City. We used to spend summers in Argentina after the divorce, and then eventually my mother remarried Carl, an accountant."
"Okay, so I'm assuming we're gonna need passports?" Roger said, resting his hand on her hip.
Mimi's eyes widened in shock. "Oh god, please tell me you have a passport," she practically shouted at him.
"Yeah, I spent one summer in Italy to see my dad's distant relatives. Problem is, it's back in Scarsdale, and the only way you'd get me up there is to heavily sedate me and promise me sexual favors," Roger joked.
"Umm. Okay. Let's hope it's not expired. Do you think there's any way it can get here by 4 PM?" she asked, pulling her hair up.
Roger looked at the phone and nodded. "Yeah, I'll call my mom and find out. Hopefully that asshole won't pick up."
"Okay. I'm going to get the bags and start packing. Okay—shit…"
"Mimi, breathe," Roger reminded her, picking up the phone and pressing it against his ear.
"Yeah. Yeah, okay." She ran off into the bedroom and started rummaging through the closet.
Roger dialed the number, and after two rings Lindsey picked up.
"Hello?"
"Linds, it's Roger."
"Jesus Christ, what the fuck happened before?" she whispered into the phone. "You should see Mom, she's a mess!"
"Yeah, I know but---okay I can't talk about that right now. Do you know where the passports are?"
"What? Yeah, Mom has them in her drawer. Why?"
"Mimi's got a family emergency in Argentina and I need my passport to get out of the country."
"You're leaving without resolving this?"
"Lindsey can you get the passport to me or not?"
"Yeah. I can."
"By 4 PM? Our flight leaves at 6:30."
"Fine. I'll be there around noon."
"Is Mark there?"
"Yeah, he's sitting right here."
"Put him on?"
"Yep." Lindsey handed the phone to Roger and ran off to get the passports.
"Hello?" Mark asked. Roger explained the situation to him quickly, in all ways trying to avoid what he liked to call a "Mark tantrum".
"So you're going?" Mark asked, breathing softly into the phone.
"Yeah. It's not like I'm letting my three month pregnant girlfriend onto a plane for twelve hours by herself," Roger said, sharply.
"Okay, jeez. When are you coming back?"
"I don't know. Maybe by Wednesday latest. I didn't really ask her."
"You're still going to Hawaii, right? Your flight leaves the 17th," Mark reminded him.
"It's only the 9th. We'll be home in time. Is it just me or does somebody have it in for us, because these past three months have been hell."
"You got that right. Well, I guess I'll see you when I get back?"
"Yeah. Bye," Roger said, hanging up the phone. He paused for a minute to stare at the wall, comtemplating how things kept getting more and more complicated as the months progressed. He hoped that by the time they got back from Hawaii, everything would be drama free and remain that way. He walked over to the bedroom, knocking on the doorframe. Mimi was wedged halfway in the closet, trying to pull something out from the back.
Roger had the urge to laugh at her, because you could barely see her tiny form sticking out, but realized this probably wasn't the right time. "What are you doing?"
Mimi pulled herself out of the closet, holiding a pair of flip flops in her hands. "I just realized something. It's summer in Argentina," she replied meekly.
"What? How?"
"Roger. The seasons are flipped. Since it's winter here, it's summer there. You have summer clothes, right?" she asked him, shaking her head.
"Yeah." He started going through the bottom drawer of the dresser, tossing shorts and a few tshirts into the duffel bag that had recently been emptied by Mimi. Mimi's bag was already full, stacked with sweatpants and a few pairs of loose workout shorts since her shorts and skirts from last summer were tight around her waist. Instead of sweaters and hoodies, tank tops had been added, followed by three pairs of flip flops. Roger however, was still trying to figure out what he was going to take.
"How much do I need?" he asked, adding a few more tshirts to his pile.
"Take at least four days worth of everything. I'm sure we'll be back by at least Thursday. Do you have a suit…or anything?" she said, biting her lip.
"Uh…well…"
Mimi sighed. "What about borrowing one of Mark's?"
"Mark's like…six inches shorter than me. There's no way the pants are gonna fit."
"Okay, then we're fucked. What about dress pants?" Roger shook his head sheepishly.
"Wait, let me call Lindsey back. She'll bring me something of Jimmy's. We're the same height." He ran out to use the phone again, as Mimi continued packing for him.
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Five minutes later, Mimi had just zipped both of their duffel bags. She had found her knee length black dress that she had worn to Angel's funeral in the back of their closet, still in the garment bag and untouched. It would be a tight fit, which was exactly why she had brought a black sweater to wear over it—to camoflauge her protruding belly and so the rest of her family wouldn't ask questions about her pregnancy. They didn't need to know—and she'd keep it that way. Aside from her mother, she doubted any of her immediate family knew.
She looked up from the bed to find Roger already back in the room. "Yeah, she's bringing one of his suits up. She's pissed at me, but whatever. Okay, so the clothes are packed. What about your pills, my pills, your vitamins and iron pills?"
"I'll get them in a minute. I better bring Tylenol with us too. Don't drink the water down their either, just as a precaution. You'll spend the whole time in the bathroom. Get bottled everything," she reminded him.
"What about the heating pad for your back?"
"Packed. We'll just need an adapter, and their should be one at my dad's house. The wiring's different down there. Did you call Wes and let him know you'll be skipping band practice on Monday? What about Collins, does he know we're leaving?"
Roger left the room again to make some more phone calls, and Mimi quickly changed into a pair of black sweatpants and a tank top, throwing her hoodie over it. "Write Mark a note to remind him to buy that damn heater!" she shouted over.
"Okay!" Roger yelled back, on the phone with Wes. Within a few minutes he was off. "Uh babe, you said your mom's already on the plane. Where's our tickets?"
"At the airport. We'll get them when we check in."
"Okay." Mimi looked down and away from him then, pretending to be preoccupied with the zipper on the bag. Roger took the hit and walked away, silently, closing the door behind him. The minute she knew he was gone, she walked over to the mirror and stared at her reflection in the dim light. She'd been seventeen years old the last time she had seen any of her family, and she couldn't help but wonder if they'd think any different of her.
The truth is, she was different.
Fuck her family if they couldn't bring themselves to realize that.
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"Mimi, you want a sandwich?" Roger asked, taking out the bread from the cabinet.
"Uh, no," she said, looking up from the couch. She was searching through a shoebox full of papers.
"You sure? You haven't eaten anything since last night. How about some crackers?"
"I said no, Roger," she said harshly, setting a few papers on her lap. Roger shrugged and turned around, finishing his sandwhich before sitting down next to her.
"What's that?" he asked, through a mouthful of peanut butter.
"Chew and swallow. Um, just my passport and a few phone numbers. Old photo ID. You know."
Roger reached over and opened the passport, looking at the picture. "Wow, how old are you here?"
Mimi looked over at the picture in his lap. "Probably sixteen."
"Wow. You were hot for a sixteen year old," he laughed. "I didn't know your name was Marcela."
"Yep. Marcela Concepcion Marquez. Kind of a mouthful, but everyone's called me Mimi since I was three years old. I guess Carl's a decent enough guy, but I just never took his last name. Marquez-Wright. Hmm, okay," she laughed.
"Yeah, understandable," Roger agreed, pulling her onto his lap and kissing the side of her neck. He almost had her bra unhooked when the doorbell buzzed.
"And—that—would—be—my—sister," he said in between kisses. "Great fucking timing."
Mimi laughed and quickly adjusted herself as Roger got up to answer the door. Marissa came toddling in, running right to Roger and wrapping herself around his leg. "Hey there," he greeted, scooping her up. Marissa giggled and laughed, waving a pudgy hand at Mimi over Roger's shoulder.
"Hey yourself," Lindsey greeted grumpily, handing him the suit.
"Be nice to your brother."
"Mom?"
Sandra dug around in her purse and pulled out Roger's passport and handed it to him. Roger placed Marissa down on the ground, and she ran back over to Lindsey. "Just please, be careful over there, okay?" She pulled him in for a hug. "Why didn't you tell me you were sick? Oh sweetie," she whispered.
"I know Mom. I'm sorry. I didn't know how."
Mimi stood back, surveying the scene from the couch.
"Well, we'll talk about this when you get back. I'm sorry to hear about everything, Mimi. I'll keep your family in my prayers."
"Thank you Mrs. Davis."
"Well, we just wanted to stop by to drop off the passport and the suit, but we have to get going anyway. Your grandmother wants to go shopping for paint samples for her kitchen." Sandra gave Roger another hug and a quick kiss on his cheek. "Call if you need anything?"
"Sure."
Lindsey picked up Marissa and gave Roger a half hug. "Bye bro. Bring me something good from Argentina," she winked.
"I'll try."
"Bye Mimi."
"Bye." Roger closed the door behind them and slumped up against it.
"I'm kind of hungry now," Mimi shrugged, making her way into the kitchen.
"Figures when I want to make something, you're not."
"Yeah, because you're making it," she laughed.
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By 5, Roger was tipping the cab driver and dragging the duffels out of the trunk. Mimi was standing on the curb near the international departure signs at Newark Airport, her hands in her jacket, watching. Roger had insisted that she let him carry the bags, even though she had argued that she was more than capable.
"So where to?" he asked, as the cab pulled away from the curb.
"Dump the bags off here. They'll take care of it," she answered, pointing to a man standing behind a small desk with a conveyor belt attached. Roger did so, and then latched onto Mimi's hand before walking inside. They first made their way over to the check in counter, surprised that the line wasn't too long.
Forty minutes later, their passports were stamped and they had their tickets and boarding passes. As they passed through security, Roger took his passport out again and looked at it.
"Mine expires next Friday," he laughed, shoving it back in his pocket and ruffling Mimi's hair. They found two seats by the window and Mimi stretched out, head in Roger's lap.
"So what's your family gonna think of me?" he asked, running his fingers through her hair.
"I'm sure they'll love you. The only person they're not too fond of right now is me," she reminded him. "I'm just going to say goodbye to my father. I'm surprised they even called to tell me he was dying," she snorted angrily. She propped herself up again, and Roger wrapped his arms around her waist.
"I'm sorry," he said, drawing her closer to him. A few silent minutes passed, his eyes scanning the crowded terminal.
"Roger?"
"Yeah baby?"
"I'm scared. I'm scared to go back—to see him die. I might not have seen him for three years, but I still love him the same," she said quietly.
"I know I might not be much, but I'll be there for you, through everything, okay?" he said, kissing her forehead.
"You're everything to me, and I know I don't tell you that enough, but you are. I mean it," she said just as quietly as before.
"I love you."
"I love you too."
"Ladies and gentleman, we are about to begin the boarding process for flight 202, service to Buenos Aires, Argentina. The estimated time for this flight is 13 hours, 20 minutes. We'll now be boarding our first class passengers, rows 1 through 8, as well as our passengers with small children. Please have your passports and boarding passes out. Thank you."
"First class, huh? Free bar," he teased, as they walked through the checkpoint and onto the plane.
"Oh, honestly," she said, finding their seats and stowing the carryon bag on in the overhead compartment. "I'm in love with these seats right now. Do you want window or aisle?"
"Doesn't matter."
"Good, because I had dibs on the window seat anyway and you would have lost," she winked, sinking into the leather seat and closing her eyes briefly.
"Says the grumpy, pregnant woman…"
"…that you love," she added. "Rog, can you hand me those pillows? I need them for my back."
"Of course, honey," he said, mocking her. She shot him a look and placed the one pillow behind her back and the other behind her head.
"Oh, and Roger? How about that blanket too? It's cold in here."
Roger laughed and spread the blanket out over her. She sighed and ditched the pillow for his shoulder.
"Ladies and gentleman, this is your captain speaking. In order for an ontime departure, I'd like to ask you all at this time to find your designated seat and make sure your tray tables are in an upright and locked position. We're looking at a quick and easy flying time, scheduled at a little over thirteen hours. Conditions are clear in Buenos Aires tonight, with a temperature rounding out at about 81 degrees…"
"I hate when they do that," Mimi muttered. "You can't even hear them half the time."
"You want some cheese with that whine?" Roger laughed, poking her in her side.
"Roger, that's about the corniest thing I ever heard. I can't believe you said that," she said, staring up at him.
"I know. Want to hear another corny joke?"
Mimi raised an eyebrow at him. "Just shut up and watch the inflight movie."
"Ouch."
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NEXT UP: Back to Scarsdale and the Cohen family dinner; Mimi and Roger arrive in Buenos Aires.