Roger woke up the next morning to the sound of the phone ringing in the other room.

Groaning, he sat up in bed, wincing as the bright light entered his eyes.

He looked over at Mimi, who was facing the other wall, still asleep.

Roger rubbed his eyes and forced himself out of bed, stumbling into the other room to answer the phone.

He entered the kitchen and blindly swiped the phone out of its cradle.

"Yeah?"

"Morning, Roger."

"Chad? What the fuck are you doing? It's five in the morning," Roger grumbled.

"Well, hello, sunshine. The guys are having an early practice today. We're gonna go down to CBGB's at six and practice through five in the morning. You game?"

"Shit," Roger mumbled.

"What is it?"

"I promised Mimi . . ."

"Whatever you promised her can wait, Roger. This is really important. I'm PROPOSING to my girlfriend tonight, remember? I want to make sure everything is perfect."

Roger let out a long sigh.

"Please, Roger? Can I count on you to be there?"

"Can't I come later?"

"No, Roger, either you're in, or you're out. The gig's TONIGHT. And we didn't have that much practice time anyway. You only propose once, Roger."

Roger was at a loss. "Mimi's going to kill me . . ."

"She'll live. She'll see you up there tonight and forgive you for whatever it is. Can you be over here in half an hour?"

"Fine," Roger mumbled.

"Great! I knew I could count on you, Rog. See you in a few."

"Bye," Roger said faintly, but the phone had already clicked.

Sighing, he tore out a piece of scrap paper and scrawled in black pen;

Mimi-

The guys and I are having a last limit practice. I can't back out. Chad's proposing tonight and he needs everything to be all set. I'm real sorry baby- I'll make it up to you. I promise

-Roger

He taped the note on the wall opposite of the bedroom, so Mimi would see it when she got up.

Then, quietly, he got dressed, grabbed his fender, and headed over to Chad's place.

***

"Fuck!" Mark heard Mimi shout from the kitchen.

"What is it?" he asked, poking his head inside.

"Roger left to go practice with the guys." Mimi shook her head. "I can't believe him. He promised me he'd go with me to visit my mom."

"Well, you know Roger," Mark said, pouring himself a glass of orange juice. "He thinks he always needs to be there for the band. Sometimes he forgets he has other responsibilities."

"But he PROMISED me," Mimi whispered. "Last night, he reassured me like fifty times."

Mark frowned. "I'm sorry, Meems. I'd go with you but me and Jan already made plans for this morning. And Isabella took Daisha out for brunch. You could always go a different time with Roger."

"No," Mimi sighed. "If I don't do it now, I'll never do it. Isabella gave me the address. I'll go myself."

"Are you sure?" Mark asked her.

"Yes."

"Alright," he shrugged, as he took a sip from his glass. "But no one's forcing you to go today."

"I know. I'm going to go get dressed."

Mimi left the room, and a few moments later returned wearing her old carpet- bag coat over a tight black dress, and a scarf.

Mark raised his eyebrows. "You're gonna wear that to your mom's?"

"By the time I get back it'll be time for the gig to start," Mimi told him. "I have more time this way."

"Oh." He rinsed his glass out into the sink.

Mimi crumpled a piece of paper on which Isabella had written directions for her in her coat pocket.

"Do you want me to get Maureen or Joanne to drive you?"

"Nah, thanks anyway. I'll take the subway."

"If you're sure."

"Mark, I'm fine, don't worry about it. I'll be back in time for the gig to start.'

"Alright. Good luck."

"Thanks," she said, smiling, giving him a quick hug.

"If Roger calls, tell him where I am, okay?"

"Got it."

"See you later, Mark."

"See you."

Mimi closed the door quietly behind her.

***

Mimi had to go on four different subways to get to her destination. After she exited the final one, she quickly jogged up the stairs, immediately greeted by smog.

It wasn't a nice looking neighborhood, Mimi thought to herself. She'd expected somewhere a bit less isolated, since Joel now had a new job.

She walked quickly, glancing every now and then down at the slip of paper Isabella had given her to make sure she was going the wrong way.

Finally, she stopped in front of an old apartment building. The windows had wooden boards nailed across them, and there were three garbage cans turned over on their sides, filth sprawled across the street. It didn't look like anyone had made much of an effort to clean it up.

Taking a deep breath, Mimi walked up the rusting stairs, and knocked on the door once, then twice.

An older woman answered the door, and although Mimi hadn't seen her mother in five years, she knew it wasn't her.

"Yes?" the woman said, coldly.

"I- Does Conchita Marquez live here?" Mimi stammered.

"One moment." The woman turned her head and yelled, "Conchita! Someone to see you!"

"Coming!"

Mimi's heart fluttered as she heard her mother's voice.

She heard her footsteps coming closer, and finally she appeared in the doorway beside the other woman.

Mimi saw that she had indeed aged. But she was still the woman that Mimi had always known, loved, and depended on.

"Hello," Mimi's mother looked at her, her eye's straining with sudden recognition.

Mimi took a deep breath. "Mama, it's me. Mimi."

"Mimi?" her mother's voice became a choked whisper.

"Yes . . . Isabella gave me your address . . . and I wanted to see you again."

"Mimi. Usted ha venido en casa. You've come home."

"I have, Mama," Mimi whispered.

"Ah, Mimi, yo lo he perdido tanto."

"I've missed you too, Mama."

Mimi's mother's eyes welled up in tears.

"Come inside, Chica," she whispered. She turned to the anonymous woman next to her.

"Rosa. ¿Trae algo beber para mi hija, por favor?"

"Bueno." The woman turned and left, leaving Mimi and her mother alone.

Conchita led Mimi, holding onto her hand.

"Come, sit, Mimi," she whispered, settling onto the couch beside her daughter.

"Tell me, Chica. Where have you been all this time?"

Preparing to talk for a long time, Mimi told Conchita about Roger, Mark, Collins, Angel, Maureen, Joanne, and Benny.

She told her about her disease, and how she and Roger were helping each other move on.

She told her about how she had come to meet Isabella and Daisha again, and then how she wanted to come visit her afterwards.

Conchita listened, shaking her head in amazement.

"It's been a long time indeed, Maria," she said, using Mimi's given name.

For once, Mimi didn't mind.

"I know," Mimi whispered. "I should have called, or wrote to you . . . or SOMETHING. I shouldn't have just left you all worrying."

"Es bien, Mimi. You're here now, aren't you? That's all that matters." Conchita kissed Mimi on top of her head, and Mimi closed her eyes. She felt like a little girl again.

Suddenly she wanted to be eight years old again. She wanted to be able to cry, and be comforted and kissed by her mother. She wanted to feel the shelter of a family again.

"No llore, Chica. No tears. There is only happiness now. I thought I'd never see you again," Conchita sighed, pulling Mimi close to her.

"So did I," Mimi whispered. "I missed you so much. I'm sorry."

"For what, Chica? You did nothing."

"For making you worry, for burdening all of you."

"You have your own wings, Chica. They take you places, and you cannot help that. It is of your own free will. You cannot overcome your desire to be free."

"I know," Mimi sniffled. "But I'm still sorry."

"Apologies are accepted, although they are not needed. Here, have some tea, Chica," Conchita said, as Rosa returned with the tray.

Mimi took a long sip of the hot tea, and cleared her throat.

"Where are you living now, Mimi?"

"With my boyfriend and his roommate. On the corner of avenue A and B."

"And Daisha is with you?"

"Yes," Mimi said, guiltily.

Conchita sighed. "It's not her. It's Joel. He makes us all do crazy things."

"Do you love him?" Mimi whispered.

Conchita looked up, surprised. ¿Qué?

"Do you love him, Mama?"

Before Conchita could answer, the sound of a key turning in the lock interrupted her thoughts.

"Dave let me go early today," a gruff voice came from the hallway.

Mimi's heart dropped as she recognized the voice.

She heard his footsteps entering the living room.

"Well, well," Joel said, recognizing her immediately. "Look what the cat dragged in."

***

"Anyone home?" Roger called, as he pushed the door to the loft open.

"Mimi? Mark?"

"Hey, Rog," said Mark, who was sitting with Jan in front of the TV, not watching anything in particular.

"Mimi went to see her mom."

"Was she upset?" Roger asked, nervously.

"She was pretty pissed off. But I think she'll be alright."

"How as practice?" Jan asked Roger.

"It was alright. But if they made Midol for men- I would pay for all of Chad's prescriptions."

Mark laughed. "That bad?"

"Yeah. But you can't blame him. I mean, he IS proposing to his girlfriend tonight. He wants everything to be perfect."

"Yeah," Mark said, staring blankly at the screen.

"I'm going to go lie down quickly before the gig tonight," Roger announced, turning to leave.

Suddenly, they all heard the doorknob slowly opening, and Mimi quietly stepped in.

"Mimi," Roger said softly, walking over to her. "I'm so sorry about today, it's just Chad was bitching to me about how he needed me, and how he needs everything to be perfect for Karmine, and I wanted to come with you but I was just being pulled in two different directions . . ."

"It's fine, Roger," Mimi said, softly, not looking at him.

"Don't be like that, Mimi," Roger pleaded. "Could you at least look at me?"

"I'm going to go take a shower," she in a quiet voice.

"Mimi, please," Roger begged, holding onto her arm, preventing her from leaving.

Mimi winced as he grabbed her arm, and Roger looked and saw why.

There were deep red marks on both of Mimi's arms, starting at the wrists, and ending at her elbows.

"Leave me alone, Roger," Mimi wrenched away from him.

Roger put a hand on her shoulder, and she whipped around, eyeing him angrily.

Roger' eyes widened in shock, and Mimi tried to hide her face behind her hand as she ran into the bedroom, slamming the door behind her.

But Roger had already seen the bruises.