Chapter 45: Breakups and Makeups
"Ang, this is a great apartment! I can't believe you were lucky enough to get it!" Queenie exclaimed. Since today was Labor Day (one of the few days that Club Tran wasn't open), Queenie had decided to take the day to spend some quality time with Angel and move his stuff into his new home. Just two months ago, she had helped him pick it out. Since then, she'd been coming over as often as possible to help him get settled. Most of the bags and boxes had been moved in already, but it was the unpacking that would prove to be the real work. Angel had more stuff than anybody she knew and for a boy who had come to the East Village with only two small bags six years ago, he had certainly accumulated a lot of belongings. As he had explained to her, his wardrobe was organized first by season, then by item, then by color. She picked up a box marked "Winter drag bottoms white, black, red" and opened it up, revealing a black, white, and red array of neatly-folded clothing.
"I'm really excited about it," he gushed anxiously, as he sat down on the king-sized bed that he had just recently bought. A few weeks ago, he and Will were outside together between Angel's job at Mac and the hours where he was street-drumming when they saw a billboard for cheap new beds with same-day delivery. Before they knew it, Will was helping the movers haul the king-size mattress up the six flights of stairs to Angel's new apartment. The bed was, by far, the cheapest thing they could find and, for what it cost, it wasn't terribly uncomfortable. A few lumps here and there and an awfully bouncy mattress were worth the great deal of money they saved.
2 empty closets in the bedroom would soon be home to rainbow racks of clothing, as would 3 empty dressers. Angel made sure that he had enough storage space for all of his clothes before he had even considered moving his belongings in. This was going to be the first night he would spend alone in his new place. Since the fight with Mimi back in July, he'd been living with Will, coming back to Mimi's place only when he knew she wouldn't be home so that he could get whatever supplies he needed for the next few days. Mimi had been calling Will's apartment. Angel assumed she got the number from Queenie and Fred. She left message after message apologizing for the way she talked to him and saying that she missed having him around to talk to. No matter how much he wanted to pick up the phone every time he heard her voice on the answering machine, he couldn't bring himself to do it. Although he had stopped his promiscuity all together since then, he still wasn't taking his AZT and he knew that reconnecting with Mimi would only mean putting up with even more nagging about it that he couldn't handle. He got enough of that from Queenie, Fred, and Will—he didn't need it from anyone else. Also, he couldn't bring himself to be friends with a junkie. After seeing what devastation and destruction could occur from heroin with Will, Angel refused to let the drug rob another friend of her life.
"So how are you planning on storing all of this stuff in this place of yours?" Queenie asked him as she unpacked the clothes, stacking them in perfectly folded piles on top of the bed.
"That's a good question," Angel answered, smiling as he picked up the more formal skirts made of finer fabrics and hung them on the wooden hangers. Buying packs and packs of wooden hangers had cost Angel almost a week's worth of drumming money, but it was worth it. If there's one thing he wished every queen would know, it's that good clothes should never ever hang on anything but fine wood.
"I swear to God, Angel, you have far too many clothes for someone who barely had anything six years ago," Queenie mumbled, helping him put the clothes on hangers.
"I didn't know what I was missing."
Angel pulled out another box of clothes, this one marked "Jeans." His collection of denim had its own box all to itself.
"So Will told me you two have been seeing a lot of each other lately," Queenie remarked as the two continued to unpack, unfold, and refold clothes.
"Yeah, I've been spending a lot of time with him since Mimi and I had that fight. I'm so glad that we're friends again. I really missed him and I'm so proud of him. You know, with staying clean and everything."
"I'm proud of him too. He told me that you were shocked to hear that he and I had been writing to each other while he was in rehab."
"Yeah. Last I remember, you could barely stand him," Angel said, looking straight at Queenie. She kept her eyes cast down on the bed, trying to completely absorb herself in the box of sequined dresses she was unpacking. "Well, obviously something made you change your mind, whatever it was. He's a really great guy and I'm glad you finally realized that."
"Ang, you have to admit that if you were in my position and someone had hurt the person you love most like that, it would take you a long time to forgive him."
"I know. I know he screwed up, but underneath it all, he's a great guy. He's the best friend I've ever had and, after all we've been through, the fact that we can still be around each other and still feel completely comfortable says a lot about our relationship."
"It does. And I like him a lot. He's been good to Fred and I over the past year or so and I'm glad that he's part of our family again." She smiled as she hung up a bright, glittering pink dress. "So what's the deal with Mimi?"
Slightly frustrated, Angel sighed and put down the pile of clothes he was carrying. "There is no deal. I haven't talked to her since we had that fight back in July."
"You know, you really should get over whatever petty differences you two have and deal with it. She's a good friend to you."
"She was a good friend to me. Nobody can say what she said to me and expect me to forgive and forget just like that."
"You know what? You needed to hear what she said, Angel."
He sighed again. "I know I needed to hear that. Notice how I haven't fucked anyone since she talked to me? That's not the problem. The problem is that she called me a faggot. I don't care how mad she got—I can't be friends with someone who calls me a faggot. It's not what she said, it's how she said it."
Queenie stood in silence for a minute. "God, you've matured a lot in the past few months." She paused. "But, seriously, she said it in the heat of the moment and you know that she cares about you. Maybe she did go a little over the top, but I think it would be in your best interest to make up with her."
"We'll see," Angel responded quickly, as he picked up the pile of clothes again and stuffed them into the dresser.
A beautiful sunset graced the skies of the East Village sky, just beginning to hide behind the tall buildings. With a pickle tub in front of him, and another beneath him that he sat on, Angel sat and played, the sounds of the tub echoing down the quiet street. It was unusually quiet for an October evening, but Angel didn't mind. He loved the silence when he was drumming—it made him feel as though there was nobody else in the world besides him and his echoing drum beats. He shut his eyes and continued to play, his mind drifting off to another world entirely.
It was a young girl's soft crying that brought him back to the corner of 11th street and Avenue B. He stopped playing and looked over to see a familiar mane of unruly curls—it was Mimi.
"Oh great," he thought to himself, "The last person I want to talk to." Putting his hands back on the tub, he almost began to play again, but her crying continued. He gritted his teeth and sighed in frustration. "Why do I always feel obligated to be so damn nice?" he mumbled as he got up, stacked the tubs inside each other and walked over to her, pulling his favorite white faux-fur jacket against his body.
"Mimi?" he asked as she lifted her head, her eyes bright red from crying, her hair a frazzled mess.
"Oh my God. Angel...what are you doing here?" she asked softly, wiping her eyes and brushing her hair out of her face.
"I drum over here a lot but I heard you crying. Are you okay?" he asked, then paused, "That's a dumb question. Why would you be crying if you were fine. Tell me what's wrong."
She smiled weakly at him, tucking a lock of wild brown hair behind her ear. "Benny's married. I just met his wife."
Angel's face fell, his mouth dropping open. "Are you fucking kidding me? He's been married this whole time?" He was stunned.
"Yup. She wanted to take him out for their one year anniversary today. He told her that I just came by to give him the rent. He introduced us, like I meant absolutely nothing to him, that evil, manipulative, little --."
"Hey, calm down," he said, putting his arm around her shoulders and placing the tubs down on the sidewalk. "He's scum. You can do so much better than that. Just forget about him."
"He told me he loved me. He told me that I was the perfect girl for him and that he only wanted to be with me," she explained, her voice shaky.
"Men are scum, Mimi, that's why I don't do relationships," Angel told her.
"I know, but I really thought this one was different. Who am I kidding? They're all the same."
"Listen, you're a great girl and any guy would be lucky to date you. You're just having a bad streak of luck, that's all. The right guy will come along soon, I promise."
She smiled again, this time her face lit up a bit. "You're the best friend ever. God, Angel, I've missed talking to you so much. I'm so sorry about everything that happened."
"It's alright. I needed to hear what you said and, even though it made me mad for a while, I'm glad you talked to me. I haven't fucked anyone since our fight, I hope you know."
Mimi laughed. "God, this must be the longest you've ever gone. Are you going through withdrawal, or something?"
"Something like that," he giggled.
"I'm so sorry, though. Our friendship means way too much to me to fight over something so dumb. I don't even remember what we were arguing about in the first place."
"Me neither."
"So we're okay again?" she asked, her voice sounding hopeful and almost pleading.
"Yeah we're okay. It's free drink night at Metropolis. You buy one drink, you get the next one free! You wanna check it out with me?"
Her eyes lit up, any sadness that had been there before vanishing. "I'd love to." She grabbed his hand and led him down the street.
A/N: ONE MORE CHAPTER TO GO!!!!!! Sorry for this one taking so long and being shorter than the others. I'm just really excited for the next one. Christmas Eve... It should be up within a few days. Read and review as always.
"Ang, this is a great apartment! I can't believe you were lucky enough to get it!" Queenie exclaimed. Since today was Labor Day (one of the few days that Club Tran wasn't open), Queenie had decided to take the day to spend some quality time with Angel and move his stuff into his new home. Just two months ago, she had helped him pick it out. Since then, she'd been coming over as often as possible to help him get settled. Most of the bags and boxes had been moved in already, but it was the unpacking that would prove to be the real work. Angel had more stuff than anybody she knew and for a boy who had come to the East Village with only two small bags six years ago, he had certainly accumulated a lot of belongings. As he had explained to her, his wardrobe was organized first by season, then by item, then by color. She picked up a box marked "Winter drag bottoms white, black, red" and opened it up, revealing a black, white, and red array of neatly-folded clothing.
"I'm really excited about it," he gushed anxiously, as he sat down on the king-sized bed that he had just recently bought. A few weeks ago, he and Will were outside together between Angel's job at Mac and the hours where he was street-drumming when they saw a billboard for cheap new beds with same-day delivery. Before they knew it, Will was helping the movers haul the king-size mattress up the six flights of stairs to Angel's new apartment. The bed was, by far, the cheapest thing they could find and, for what it cost, it wasn't terribly uncomfortable. A few lumps here and there and an awfully bouncy mattress were worth the great deal of money they saved.
2 empty closets in the bedroom would soon be home to rainbow racks of clothing, as would 3 empty dressers. Angel made sure that he had enough storage space for all of his clothes before he had even considered moving his belongings in. This was going to be the first night he would spend alone in his new place. Since the fight with Mimi back in July, he'd been living with Will, coming back to Mimi's place only when he knew she wouldn't be home so that he could get whatever supplies he needed for the next few days. Mimi had been calling Will's apartment. Angel assumed she got the number from Queenie and Fred. She left message after message apologizing for the way she talked to him and saying that she missed having him around to talk to. No matter how much he wanted to pick up the phone every time he heard her voice on the answering machine, he couldn't bring himself to do it. Although he had stopped his promiscuity all together since then, he still wasn't taking his AZT and he knew that reconnecting with Mimi would only mean putting up with even more nagging about it that he couldn't handle. He got enough of that from Queenie, Fred, and Will—he didn't need it from anyone else. Also, he couldn't bring himself to be friends with a junkie. After seeing what devastation and destruction could occur from heroin with Will, Angel refused to let the drug rob another friend of her life.
"So how are you planning on storing all of this stuff in this place of yours?" Queenie asked him as she unpacked the clothes, stacking them in perfectly folded piles on top of the bed.
"That's a good question," Angel answered, smiling as he picked up the more formal skirts made of finer fabrics and hung them on the wooden hangers. Buying packs and packs of wooden hangers had cost Angel almost a week's worth of drumming money, but it was worth it. If there's one thing he wished every queen would know, it's that good clothes should never ever hang on anything but fine wood.
"I swear to God, Angel, you have far too many clothes for someone who barely had anything six years ago," Queenie mumbled, helping him put the clothes on hangers.
"I didn't know what I was missing."
Angel pulled out another box of clothes, this one marked "Jeans." His collection of denim had its own box all to itself.
"So Will told me you two have been seeing a lot of each other lately," Queenie remarked as the two continued to unpack, unfold, and refold clothes.
"Yeah, I've been spending a lot of time with him since Mimi and I had that fight. I'm so glad that we're friends again. I really missed him and I'm so proud of him. You know, with staying clean and everything."
"I'm proud of him too. He told me that you were shocked to hear that he and I had been writing to each other while he was in rehab."
"Yeah. Last I remember, you could barely stand him," Angel said, looking straight at Queenie. She kept her eyes cast down on the bed, trying to completely absorb herself in the box of sequined dresses she was unpacking. "Well, obviously something made you change your mind, whatever it was. He's a really great guy and I'm glad you finally realized that."
"Ang, you have to admit that if you were in my position and someone had hurt the person you love most like that, it would take you a long time to forgive him."
"I know. I know he screwed up, but underneath it all, he's a great guy. He's the best friend I've ever had and, after all we've been through, the fact that we can still be around each other and still feel completely comfortable says a lot about our relationship."
"It does. And I like him a lot. He's been good to Fred and I over the past year or so and I'm glad that he's part of our family again." She smiled as she hung up a bright, glittering pink dress. "So what's the deal with Mimi?"
Slightly frustrated, Angel sighed and put down the pile of clothes he was carrying. "There is no deal. I haven't talked to her since we had that fight back in July."
"You know, you really should get over whatever petty differences you two have and deal with it. She's a good friend to you."
"She was a good friend to me. Nobody can say what she said to me and expect me to forgive and forget just like that."
"You know what? You needed to hear what she said, Angel."
He sighed again. "I know I needed to hear that. Notice how I haven't fucked anyone since she talked to me? That's not the problem. The problem is that she called me a faggot. I don't care how mad she got—I can't be friends with someone who calls me a faggot. It's not what she said, it's how she said it."
Queenie stood in silence for a minute. "God, you've matured a lot in the past few months." She paused. "But, seriously, she said it in the heat of the moment and you know that she cares about you. Maybe she did go a little over the top, but I think it would be in your best interest to make up with her."
"We'll see," Angel responded quickly, as he picked up the pile of clothes again and stuffed them into the dresser.
A beautiful sunset graced the skies of the East Village sky, just beginning to hide behind the tall buildings. With a pickle tub in front of him, and another beneath him that he sat on, Angel sat and played, the sounds of the tub echoing down the quiet street. It was unusually quiet for an October evening, but Angel didn't mind. He loved the silence when he was drumming—it made him feel as though there was nobody else in the world besides him and his echoing drum beats. He shut his eyes and continued to play, his mind drifting off to another world entirely.
It was a young girl's soft crying that brought him back to the corner of 11th street and Avenue B. He stopped playing and looked over to see a familiar mane of unruly curls—it was Mimi.
"Oh great," he thought to himself, "The last person I want to talk to." Putting his hands back on the tub, he almost began to play again, but her crying continued. He gritted his teeth and sighed in frustration. "Why do I always feel obligated to be so damn nice?" he mumbled as he got up, stacked the tubs inside each other and walked over to her, pulling his favorite white faux-fur jacket against his body.
"Mimi?" he asked as she lifted her head, her eyes bright red from crying, her hair a frazzled mess.
"Oh my God. Angel...what are you doing here?" she asked softly, wiping her eyes and brushing her hair out of her face.
"I drum over here a lot but I heard you crying. Are you okay?" he asked, then paused, "That's a dumb question. Why would you be crying if you were fine. Tell me what's wrong."
She smiled weakly at him, tucking a lock of wild brown hair behind her ear. "Benny's married. I just met his wife."
Angel's face fell, his mouth dropping open. "Are you fucking kidding me? He's been married this whole time?" He was stunned.
"Yup. She wanted to take him out for their one year anniversary today. He told her that I just came by to give him the rent. He introduced us, like I meant absolutely nothing to him, that evil, manipulative, little --."
"Hey, calm down," he said, putting his arm around her shoulders and placing the tubs down on the sidewalk. "He's scum. You can do so much better than that. Just forget about him."
"He told me he loved me. He told me that I was the perfect girl for him and that he only wanted to be with me," she explained, her voice shaky.
"Men are scum, Mimi, that's why I don't do relationships," Angel told her.
"I know, but I really thought this one was different. Who am I kidding? They're all the same."
"Listen, you're a great girl and any guy would be lucky to date you. You're just having a bad streak of luck, that's all. The right guy will come along soon, I promise."
She smiled again, this time her face lit up a bit. "You're the best friend ever. God, Angel, I've missed talking to you so much. I'm so sorry about everything that happened."
"It's alright. I needed to hear what you said and, even though it made me mad for a while, I'm glad you talked to me. I haven't fucked anyone since our fight, I hope you know."
Mimi laughed. "God, this must be the longest you've ever gone. Are you going through withdrawal, or something?"
"Something like that," he giggled.
"I'm so sorry, though. Our friendship means way too much to me to fight over something so dumb. I don't even remember what we were arguing about in the first place."
"Me neither."
"So we're okay again?" she asked, her voice sounding hopeful and almost pleading.
"Yeah we're okay. It's free drink night at Metropolis. You buy one drink, you get the next one free! You wanna check it out with me?"
Her eyes lit up, any sadness that had been there before vanishing. "I'd love to." She grabbed his hand and led him down the street.
A/N: ONE MORE CHAPTER TO GO!!!!!! Sorry for this one taking so long and being shorter than the others. I'm just really excited for the next one. Christmas Eve... It should be up within a few days. Read and review as always.