Chapter 11

The musician and filmmaker walked the steps up to the loft, with a lighter feeling between them. Roger was talking more freely and was more open to what Mark had to say. He opened the door and walked in.

"Meems? Baby, I'm home. Mimi? Mimi? Mark! Mimi's gone!"

"I know. Joanne took her."

"Joanne? Mark where are they?" Roger's eyes were blazing in dangerous fury.

"She took her to the hospital," he replied calmly.

"What? Mark! I told you I could handle it, that she was fine! Why did you let her do that?" he shouted.

"No, Roger! Couldn't you see her? Couldn't you hear her cough? That is not fine! Joanne was right, and you know it! You're just scared!" Roger threw the coffee against the wall where it exploded in a splash of golden brown.

"Mark! Of course I'm scared!" He violently tore his coat off the couch he had put it on, and strode quickly out the door. Mark sighed and hurried after him.

Joanne was sitting in the waiting room, fingers tapping the armrest quickly and furiously in worry. She heard the door slam open and jumped in surprise. Her head whipped around to see a furious Roger str iding toward her. She stood, ready to meet her foe.

"Where is she?"

"They won't let you see her. She's not ready yet."

"Why?"

"Because! You were stupid and cocky, and wouldn't let her go to the doctor, and now she's worse than you could have imagined!"

"When can I see her?" he asked, defeated.

"I don't know. But there are some things you need to know. They think I'm her sister, and you're her husband,. She gave your last name as hers." His eyes widened and she saw them water.

"She--- she did that?" Joanne nodded her head. He sat down weakly, head in his hands. Mark came up behind her and took her hand.

"You know, he wasn't being stupid and cocky, he's just scared."

"I know. And now I'm sorry I said it. I---" she was cut off by the reception nurse.

"You can go see her now. Room 448." Roger shot up out of his seat and down the hall, Joanne and Mark quickly following. They walked into the room and she gasped.

This was not Mimi. Her small bony frame lay under a snow white blanket, her curly raven hair matted and wet on the pillow. She had a tube sticking out of her wrist, and a tube in her nose. Everything was sickeningly sterile. Mimi was alone in a sea of white. Roger rushed forward, taking her hand and kissing it.

"Mimi, Mimi, what's wrong with you? What's wrong with me? I'm so sorry I did this to you."

"No, its okay. Just promise you won't leave until I go."

"Don't talk like that! You'll be okay! You're only going to be here for a few days, and then you'll be fine. We'll go home." She shook her head sadly.

"Honey, I don't think I'm going to leave here." Tears ran down his cheeks, and he shook his head violently, murmuring, "no, no, no…" Joanne took a step forward, unsure of herself.

"Thank you so much, Joanne. I don't know where I'd be without you." She stood at the foot of the bed, afraid to touch her. "Mark, where's the camera? I would have thought you 'd want to capture this." He shook his head. "Well, I want you to film me when I die."

"Mimi, I---"

"Please, Mark. Do this for me. You don't even have to be here. You can just set it on a table or something. But I don't want to be forgotten. I want a part of me here for you guys always." He nodded, unable to speak.

"Um, I'll go get it then. Just in case," he said, swallowing. Mimi nodded her approval.

"There's not much time."

"No day but today, Mimi." She smiled and closed her eyes.

"I'm going to go with Mark, and we'll get Collins and Maureen, okay?" He didn't answer, but continued to watch Mimi's shallow breaths. Joanne left without a response. She caught up to Mark, and the two lovers walked silently hand in hand to the loft.