Stop & Go

Chapter One - Callous Indifference

January 1, 1997

"Then she crosses her arms and turns all indignant on me, 'You're so immature sometimes. Why do I put up with you?' God, can you even believe her?" Maureen finished, shaking her head at the other two as she waited for a response.

Mark and Collins started blankly at her, bored out of their minds. Maureen had been regaling them with complaints about the latest indecency that Joanne had committed against her for the last half hour as they all sat sprawled out in Collins' apartment, but for Collins and Mark it seemed like much longer.

Maureen kicked her legs over the arm of the easy chair she sat in, while Mark and Collins sat on opposite sides of the couch with their feet up on the large footstool in the middle. She crossed her arms over her chest and pouted.

"Typical. You're always on her side, aren't you? God forbid you side with me for once. I mean, you've only known me for, what, two, three years?"

"Shut up, Maureen," Mark tried, shutting his eyes and hoping that might drown out her voice.

"And you've only known her for, like, one. So in theory you should be on my side."

"In theory," Mark started seriously. "You should shut the hell up before I kick your ass." He managed to keep a straight face until about halfway through the sentence when he lost it and started to laugh.

Maureen gasped. "You think this is all just a big joke, don't you?"

"Yeah, Mo, that's exactly it," he replied deadpan.

Collins laughed and shook his head. "I swear you two were brother and sister in another life."

"Maybe," Mark shrugged, rubbing his stomach.

"But brothers and sisters never –"

"Maureen, shut up…" Mark tired, burying his face in his hands.

"I'm just saying!" she shot back. "Good Lord, Mark. Someone boarded the grumpy train this morning," she teased him, tossing a pillow at him. He caught it and hugged it in his arms, plastering a pretend pout on his face.

"I'm telling mom!"

Collins laughed and shook his head.

"You guys hungry? 'Cause I am."

Mark and Maureen glanced at each other before nodding and turning back to Collins, who stood up and stretched his arms over his head.

"Alright," he replied. "I'll pop the pizza in the oven and grab some drinks, sound good?"

"Yeah," Mark replied, looking down at his hands. Collins disappeared into the kitchen and Mark and Maureen were left alone. She cocked her head at him and studied his face carefully.

"You okay?"

He sighed and glanced down at his watch. "Yeah. Do you think they're back yet?"

She crawled across the large footstool to the couch and curled up against him. "No. Her appointment at the clinic only started a little while ago."

His head rolled back and rested against the back of the couch. "When do you think they'll be back?"

"Not for at least another hour." She patted his chest gently. "Don't worry, she's going to be fine."

Mark shrugged and rested his head against Maureen's. "What if she's not? Remember what happened after April?"

Maureen nodded, finally able to tell how obviously troubled he was by Mimi's sickness. When she and Joanne found her in the park a week ago, she looked like she was barely holding on, like she could slip away at any given moment. Everybody had been on edge for the last little while, even more so than usual for a group of young people barely surviving in New York. Roger was convinced it was the chicken soup and blankets that kept her alive, Collins and Joanne sure that it was their prayers. Maureen didn't know what the hell was keeping her friend alive, but was glad that whatever it was was doing its job.

"Yeah," she replied quietly, feeling hot tears prickling at the back of her eyes. She began fiddling with the ring on her finger and studied the purple stone embedded in the mock-gold piece of jewelry.

"I don't want him to be alone, too," Mark sighed. "After April he was so screwed up. I don't know what he'll do if Mimi goes, too."

"She won't," Maureen reassured him as a matter-of-factly. "She's going to be fine."

"How do you know?" he asked, looking down at her with heavy laden eyes. "What if she –"

"She won't," Maureen cut him off. She didn't want to have to hear that word. "Just trust me."

Mark sighed and nodded, kissing the top of his friend's head. "Famous last words coming from you," he laughed quietly.

She gasped and slapped him lightly in the chest. "Jerk! I can't believe he just said that!" she laughed to Collins who emerged from the kitchen with three glasses and a glass bottle of root beer under his arm.

"I tell you," he laughed, shaking his head. "Brother and sister."

Mark laughed and stood up from his seat, taking two glasses from Collins. He handed one to Maureen and placed the other on the side table beside the couch.

"Well," he started, making his way over to the door. "Since the pizza won't be ready for another little while, I think I'm gonna go grab some coffee."

"To visit your girlfriend?!" Maureen squealed, bounding over to the other side of the couch. Collins laughed and sat down in the chair across from her, placing the root beer and glass on the footstool.

"Your girlfriend, eh?"

Mark rolled his eyes and pulled his jacket off the coat rack. "She's not my girlfriend," he told Maureen before turning his attention to Collins. "She's just a girl that works at this coffee place."

"A girl he wants to do!" Maureen snorted, pouring herself some root beer.

"I do not," he reassured Collins as he wound his striped scarf around his neck. He picked up his camera from the table by the door and shoved his feet into his sneakers.

"Do too," she informed him, taking a sip.

"Do not. Do you want me to pick anything up for you, Collins?"

He shook his head and laughed quietly.

"You can get me a vanilla hot chocolate," Maureen smiled sweetly, batting her eyelashes at Mark. He scoffed jokingly and left the apartment.

Mark fiddled with his camera and tapped his foot as he waited in line. The small coffee house was becoming more familiar to him every time he went in. The first time he went in was on a whim. He was out filming and trying to get his mind off of Roger and Mimi. It was the day after she had returned to the loft, and everybody had figured it would be best to give the two some alone time so they could figure everything out. Mark went into the first coffee place he saw, which just so happened to be that one. He was very taken with the server behind the counter, and whenever he returned they'd flirt a little and then he'd leave. He kept telling himself to ask her on a date but found that he could never muster up enough courage to actually do so. But today was different. He was going to do it.

"Hey Mark," Kate smiled as she brushed her wispy, blonde bangs out of her eyes. "What's up?"

"Not much," he smiled, looking down at his camera.

She leaned forward and looked down at the camera, too. "Film anything good today?"

He shrugged. "No, just been hanging out with some friends."

Kate smiled and Mark melted inside. "There's a pretty big line," she whispered, giggling. "I better hurry up. What can I get for you?"

"Just a tea. Oh, and a large vanilla hot chocolate."

"For your friend?" she smiled, punching in some numbers on the cash register.

Mark nodded, blushing slightly.

"That's cute. You're cute."

She turned around quickly, her blonde ponytail flipping over her shoulder and began pulling at random levers and filling Styrofoam cups.

Roger unlocked the door to the loft and kicked it open with his foot, keeping an arm tightly around Mimi's waist. They just returned from the clinic with some less than good news, but neither of them had mentioned it since they left. They were both too afraid to.

Roger helped Mimi onto the bed and sat down beside her, pulling the blankets up over her.

"Sorry it's so damn cold in here," he frowned, taking off his coat and draping that over her, too. "I'll start a fire and it'll be warmer."

Mimi shrugged carefully, forcing a small smile. "It'll be okay," she told him hoarsely. "I'm fine."

He knew she was lying. He kissed her forehead gently and pushed her hair out of her eyes.

"I'm going to grab something to eat. Do you want anything?"

She shook her head.

"Are you sure? You need to keep up your stamina."

"I'm not hungry," she reassured him. "I think I just want to sleep for a little while."

He nodded, smiling sadly. "I won't be long. I'll come back as soon as I can."

"Hurry," she frowned, blinking back tears, "okay?"

He nodded again, taking a deep breath and patting her hand gently. "Fast as lightning."

He stood up and walked out of the room, turning around when he heard Mimi whisper.

"I love you."

"I love you too."

Roger smiled as he watched her turn over under the mass of blankets, quickly falling asleep. Everybody had lent some blankets to the loft knowing that Mimi was so sick. Collins even gave her Angel's old quilt, telling her that their guardian Angel would watch over her.

He opened up the refrigerator in the kitchen and pulled out a tinfoil package of pizza that Collins sent home with Mark when he was afraid that Roger and Mimi weren't eating anything. He mindlessly popped a piece into the microwave and began heating it up. He couldn't stop thinking about Mimi.

Roger could still remember the feeling he had when the doctor told him what was going on.

"She's not doing well, son," he whispered as he shut the door to the small room where Mimi waited patiently, shivering like she always did. Roger suddenly felt very vulnerable in the neatly carpeted hallway, face to face with the doctor.

"Frankly, I'd be surprised if she lived through the next couple months."

Roger stared numbly back at him, nodding stupidly. He wished he could respond with something better. Maybe, 'Is there anything we can do?' or 'Do you even know how to feel?' but found himself unable, stunned at the doctor's callous indifference to Mimi's condition.

"Do you understand, son?" He kept calling Roger 'son,' but he looked barely older than him, maybe only thirty.

"Your friend is very sick and she's not going to live. Do you understand?"

Of course he understood. Mimi wasn't going to be around for much longer. She was a goner.

Roger backed up against the counter and slid down to the ground, pulling his knees up to his chest. He couldn't take it anymore.

He heard the microwave beep, signifying that it was finished heating up his dinner, but he felt much less hungry. He stared down at his hands and rubbed two of his calloused fingers together, the fingers he once used to strum songs for Mimi on his Fender. He might never play another song for her again.

Roger felt his eyes well up with tears and instead of blinking them back or drying them, he let them fall. He dropped his head in the dark loft and rocked back and forth, crying silently and losing track of all time.

Review!