Chapter Two – Solemn Word
January 1, 1997
Roger made his way back into his and Mimi's bedroom, carrying a glass of orange juice and a sandwich. As the only ones with real money, Collins and Joanne took it upon themselves to grocery shop for the loft, making sure they had more than enough food to feed them all, especially Mimi. He gently pushed the door open with his foot and smiled when he saw Mimi curled up under the covers, peeking over the edge of the blankets.
"Hey," he greeted her, setting the plate down on the bed. Mimi started to move over to make more room for Roger, but he shook his head. "No-no-no! Stay there. You look comfortable."
Mimi smiled weakly. "I am." She shivered slightly and tried to repress the familiar feelings of needing to cough. Roger sat down next to her and wrapped an arm around her shoulders, holding the glass of juice out in front of her. She wrinkled her nose, shook her head, and rested it against Roger's shoulder. "No."
"Are you sure? You could probably use it."
Mimi shook her head carefully and snuggled up against Roger. "I'm okay for now."
Roger reached across the bed and picked up the plate with the sandwich on it, offering it to her. "Hungry?"
"No," Mimi laughed. "Don't worry."
Roger carefully tucked the blankets around Mimi and felt her forehead. "Are you cold? Hot?"
Mimi placed her hand over Roger's and gently moved it away from her. "No, I told you," she laughed. "I'm fine. I'm just tired."
"You should go to sleep then," he murmured, stroking the side of her head gently.
"I was on my way before you barged in here," she teased. Mimi reached up and took Roger's hand in hers, kissing it. "Are you okay?"
He nodded slowly and smiled sadly. "Kind of. I just…" he trailed off, his gaze sliding away from Mimi for a brief moment before skidding back to her.
"I know," she whispered. "Me too."
"Are you scared?"
"Um," she started carefully. In a way she wasn't, but she knew Roger wouldn't like that answer. "Yeah, but hasn't really hit me yet. You?"
"Horrified," he replied. "I don't want you to go."
She sighed and looked down, preoccupying herself with staring at the stitching at the hem of Roger's t-shirt. "Let's not talk about that right now. Forget it, I'm not going anywhere."
He nodded sadly and looked down. "I love you Mimi."
"Love you too," she whispered, shutting her eyes.
He held her for a long time until she fell asleep, trying to keep his mind off the future and what they were promised. He studied her angelic face as she slept. How could anything this horrible happen to someone that innocent? Mimi had never done anything wrong and she was being subjected to such a horrible fate. So was he, come to think of it. He couldn't imagine life without Mimi. Life before was so bleak and uncertain. With Mimi, though, everything seemed so much clearer. He felt like he finally knew who he was and what he wanted. She brought out the best in him, and when they weren't fighting, their relationship seemed so perfect.
Roger sighed and reluctantly detached himself from Mimi's arms, feeling hunger pains. Understandable, since he had barely eaten any real food in a week. He was too preoccupied with keeping Mimi happy and healthy, which was getting more difficult every day.
He crept out of their bedroom, shutting the door quietly behind him. He took long strides into the kitchen, hopping over the creaks in the floorboard. He still knew where they were after all that time. When he was into drugs, he learned where they were and to dodge them so he wouldn't wake anybody up on his way in or out.
Pulling the stone cold pizza out of the microwave then putting it back in for a few more seconds, Roger shivered and tried to rub some warmth into his arms. The loft was freezing. Little had been done to improve it over the last little while, and nobody really had the motive to anyway.
He took his slice of pizza out of the microwave and took a bite out of it as he walked over to the old, battered couch. He looked up when he heard the lock unhinge and the door squeak open. Mark.
"Anyone home?" he called quietly, taking off his boots and coat.
"Hey," Roger replied from the living room.
Mark smiled weakly and tossed his coat aside. "How are you?"
He shrugged and took another bite of his pizza. "Been better."
Mark nodded, understanding. He sat down beside his friend and crossed his arms, asking cautiously, "How's Mimi?"
Roger felt tears welling up in his eyes again, but blinked them back furiously. He was too proud to cry in front of anybody else.
"She's really sick, Mark."
He nodded again and looked down at his feet.
"She's gonna die."
"What?"
Roger sighed shakily and rested his throbbing head in his hands. "She's going to die."
Mark raised his eyebrows. "Are you sure? Is there anything we can all do? I know Collins said he'd help pay for the doctor, and Maureen said Joanne would too, and we could–"
"She's got a month," Roger interrupted his friend, "Before, you know…"
"Yeah," Mark said sadly. It wasn't Mimi that he was sad about, though. He never really had a particular affinity for her. He liked her just fine but never felt really connected to her, like he did with Roger or Maureen. They had always gotten along, but were awkward in each other's company, never really caring to befriend each other.
Roger broke through Mark's thoughts when he came to a revelation. "But maybe you're right. Maybe I could help her get better. I know she can and I bet she wants to."
"Rog," Mark tried. He blurted all that out on the spot, but after rational thought he knew that it would probably be impossible. "The doctor would have told you if there was something you could have done."
"Maybe he just didn't know!" Roger stood up on his shaky legs and began to pace around the small loft. "I could… I could get more food and blankets. And I could get one of those heaters that you just plug into the wall! She could take more AZT and other drugs for whatever she has," he said quickly as these thoughts came to him. He was getting even more excited by the minute and was delirious. "And I could get another job and make more money to help her."
"Rog, you're not thinking clearly. You can't do anything," Mark told him, getting up and grabbing his friend by the shoulders. "Get a hold of yourself. Do you understand what you're talking about?"
Roger pushed Mark away and shook his head. "I'm gonna get her better and…" he inhaled a shallow breath. "And we're gonna be happy. Everything's gonna work out for us, Mark. Trust me."
With that, Roger left the room and disappeared into his and Mimi's bedroom.
Mark sighed and shrugged. He sat back down on the couch and crossed his arms. Roger really worried him sometimes, especially when he thought he could change the world.
January 2, 1997
"The regular?" Kate asked, leaning forward on the counter and smiling flirtatiously at Mark.
He laughed nervously and nodded. "Yeah, please."
She shook her head, laughing, and turned around putting herself to work.
Mark had vowed to himself that today he was going to ask Kate out to dinner. He finally found someone that would stop him from feeling so alone all the time. For the first time in a long time, he felt needed. Kate liked him, even Mark could see it.
"Two thirty-five," Kate told him.
"Huh?" he asked, looking up from his camera.
"Two thirty-five," she repeated. "For the coffee…"
He shook his head and laughed, "Yeah, sorry." He pulled out a crumpled five dollar bill from his pocket and slid it across the counter to her. She smiled at him expectantly and bit her bottom lip as she dug through the register for his change. He dropped the money into his hand and pushed the coffee to him.
"It's all yours."
"Thanks," he smiled, mustering enough courage to ask her out. "Hey, do you ever… drink coffee?" he choked, noticing the smile that spread across her face.
Her face fell and she gave a one-shoulder shrug.
"Well, I'm around it all day long, so…"
He nodded and shut his eyes. "No, what I mean was… Do you want to go out with me sometime?"
The familiar smile jumped back onto Kate's face and she nodded. "Yeah, I'd like that."
"Great," he sighed, relieved.
"How about tomorrow night?" she suggested forwardly. "We could get some dinner."
"That sounds good," he replied as he picked up his coffee, blushing.
Obviously enjoying the power she held over him, Kate grinned. "Talk to you tomorrow, then."
He nodded and backed away from the counter. "Yeah, tomorrow."
"Bye Mark."
"Bye."
Mark knocked on the door to Collins' apartment and waiting patiently until he heard Maureen bounding to the door. She swung it open and stared at Mark with big eyes.
"How's Mimi?"
Mark sighed and entered the apartment, setting his coffee down on the small table near the door.
"She's really sick," he told her, unwinding his scarf from his neck and slipping out of his shoes.
"We know that," she snapped. "Is she going to be okay?"
Collins joined them at the door and wrapped an arm around Maureen's back. "Remember what we talked about?" he asked her.
She nodded and drooped her head. "She's not going to die, though."
Mark took off his coat and held it in his arms. "Yeah she is," he replied quietly. "It doesn't look good."
The group was silent as the processed what Mark told them. Maureen started to sniffle, then turned on her heel and walked back to the couch, crossing her arms and putting her feet up on the footstool.
Mark tossed his coat aside onto a chair and followed her to the couch, Collins not far behind.
"Mo…" he tried, rubbing her arm gently. Collins flopped down into the chair, staring off into space.
"Guys, it'll be okay…"
Maureen shook her head furiously as more tears started to fall. "No it won't!" she screamed. "She's gonna die too and it's not fair!"
"What do you mean?" Collins asked, concerned. He moved forward onto the footstool and tried to grab her hand. She pulled it away and stood up quickly, swiping at her eyes.
"She was a good person and she never hurt anybody!" she shrieked. She walked briskly to the bathroom and slammed the door behind her.
"I should go and see if she's okay," Mark frowned, standing up. Collins shook his head.
"Let her just digest it for a little while."
Mark nodded slowly and sat back down, forgetting about his coffee for the time being. Both men sat across from each other in silence, trying to understand what was going on.
Collins couldn't believe it. Mimi was nearing her end. The beautiful young woman who swept Roger off his feet in just one night, who made him the happiest he had been in a long time, was going to die. He knew exactly how Roger felt, Angel having done the exact same thing.
He and Angel always had such great dreams. They were going to save up all their money and movie to Santa Fe to open their restaurant. It was going to be a cozy restaurant, and they'd work right in it. They wouldn't hire people they had never met to run it. They'd do it themselves, being an active part of it. They had planned everything out, and Angel was always so excited about their future. He couldn't believe that it had already been two months since she'd died. When they were together, they lost all track of time. Now that she was gone, every dry crawled by and Collins sometimes wondered himself how he handled it.
Collins snapped out of his reverie and noted the time. They had been sitting there contemplating for quite a while.
"Um, I've got to go to school," he said sadly.
Mark nodded and watched Collins stand up and pull his coat off the coat rack.
"Take care of Maureen and order some dinner. I don't know if I'll be home."
He nodded again as Collins bundled himself up and left the apartment. Mark sighed and stood up, walking over to the washroom. He knocked gently on the door.
"Mo? Can I come in?"
"I guess," she moaned from the other side of the door. Mark opened it up and slid in, finding Maureen huddled in a corner of the washroom, her knees pulled up to her chest. He sat down beside her and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. She leaned into him and sobbed into his chest, gripping handfuls of his shirt.
He consoled her, stroking the back of her head and rocking her back and forth until they heard the phone ring.
"I should get that," Mark noted. "Might be important."
Maureen nodded, and the two stood up and walked into the kitchen. Maureen sat down at the kitchen table and Mark picked up the phone.
"Hello?"
"Mark, it's me."
"Hey Rog, what's up?" he asked, noting the frazzled tone in his friend's voice.
"Look, I've got a shift at the bar and I don't want to leave Mimi alone. Could you come home?"
Mark sighed and looked over at Maureen, who had her face buried in her hands, her shoulders shaking as she continued to cry. Mark hadn't realized that she and Mimi were so close.
"Yeah, I guess. Can Maureen come too?"
"Whatever. Thanks."
"No problem. Bye." Mark hung up the phone and placed a hand on the small of Maureen's back, crouching down beside her.
"Do you want to come to the loft with me? Roger needs us to watch Mimi while he's at work."
She shrugged helplessly and nodded, wiping away her tears. "I guess."
"Okay." He stood back up and went into the small hallway, picking up their coats from the coat rack. She appeared in the doorway and Mark helped her into hers. They put on their shoes and left the apartment, making sure the door was locked behind them.
As they walked down the street, Mark glanced into the coffee shop as they passed. He smiled when he saw Kate inside, trying to please the customers crowded into the small building and forgot about everything else for a brief moment, until he heard Maureen sniffle beside him.
"Don't do that," he pleaded with her. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her closer to him. "It'll be alright."
"No it won't," she sobbed. "It won't. Mimi's going to die and it's my fault."
"What?" Mark asked, dumbfounded. "It's not your fault."
She stopped walking and slumped over, yanking her hands out of the pockets of her red wool coat and swiping at her eyes again.
"If I found her earlier she might be okay."
"What? No!" he reassured her, standing in front of her and brushing her hair out of her eyes. "No, Maureen. There's no way you could have stopped this. She was out there for a really long time. If you found her fifteen minutes before, she's still be sick."
"How do you know?" she asked, dropping her hands to her side, searching Mark for an answer. "God, it's entirely my fault again! I can't do anything right."
He placed a hand on her cheek and shook his head. "It's not your fault!" he told her, wiping away the new set of tears with his thumb. "It's not." He pulled her in for a tight hug and rubbed her back gently. "It's not."