Chapter 12

Joanne shivered and pulled the thread-bare blanket closer around her shoulders. Stupid Benny! He took the heat right back as quickly as he gave it, after Mimi--- after she was gone. She needed Mark in there with her, to keep themselves remotely warm. Where was he? She didn't have to guess. Babying Roger, that's where. Stupid, selfish Roger. Everything was his fault. She hauled herself out of bed and set up the projector like Mark had taught her how.

Mark had kept Mimi's promise and filmed her death. He, Joanne, Maureen, and Collins had stayed in the room with her as long as the hospital staff would let them. Roger stayed, holding her hand to the end. Joanne switched the projector on, ready to relive it.

"Rog?" Mimi's shuddering breath was becoming more shallow, and labored. He swallowed and sighed.

"Yeah?"

"I should tell you--- I should tell you I love you." He gave a half-hearted laugh.

"Who do you think you are, leaving me alone with my guitar?" A tiny sob escaped from Mimi.

"I'm so sorry." He shook his head.

"No. Mimi, you have to stay with me!" her eyes closed in exhaustion.

"No. Angel needs me. I can see her!"

"Mimi, what are you talking---" Her hand fell limp in his. "Mimi?" he called softly. She didn't respond. "Mimi!" The anguish in his voice echoed the pain of 4 more./ the scene faded out with a picture of Roger, sobs racking his entire being.

Joanne shut off the clattering projector, hugging herself to keep warm, physically and emotionally.

The funeral had been a quiet affair. Roger met Mimi's mother. The eulogy was given by some random priest who echoed Mimi's plea to live, "no day but today," but in no way captured the feeling it was supposed to. Roger sat on the front row, head in his hands, with Collins next to him, a hand on his shoulder. Maureen sat on the end of an aisle, letting out a large sniff every so often. Mark and Joanne sat in the back row, her head leaning on his shoulder, silent tears streaming down her cheeks. Mark sat up, rigid, staring at nothing, detaching himself, no doubt. There were many people there, strippers from Kat Scratch, The Man, various members of Life Support, and some Hispanic-looking people with rosaries who made the sign of the cross every few minutes.

Joanne jumped at the sound of a crash.

"Its not okay Mark! She's dead! She died and left me alone! And you know what? Its my fault she died. And don't try to tell me its not!" There was a pause, where she could hear a low rumbling.

"Shut up Mark! Just shut up? Why don't you mind your own business? Go bang your dyke girlfriend?" This didn't even make Joanne mad. She was used to hearing him shout things like that. It went in a cycle. Mark would try to talk about Mimi, Roger would get mad, and invariably break something, and tell Mark to back off. 2 hours later, Roger would come back to say he was sorry and start the cycle over.

Roger was somewhat bitter toward Mark since he took away anything sharp so he couldn't "pull an April". It was about a week after the funeral when he tried it. Joanne had walked into the bathroom to shower and saw Roger staring at his forearm, a razor clenched tightly in his right hand. He lifted it, and she cried, "Roger, stop!" He jumped and saw it was her. He let out a growl of frustration, and threw the blade in the sink, swearing loudly. Mark hurried in, staring open-mouthed at the razor and Roger's pained face. He tightened his lips together and took it away. He rummaged through the various drawers and took anything sharp and threw them onto the kitchen table.

"Mark, what are you doing? Mark, stop it! Don't! Put them back!"

"No! Don't you think Mimi would be disappointed? That you would just quit like that?"

"You don't even know what you're talking about! I'm not quitting! Its different! And how do you even know I was going to do that? Your loser girlfriend doesn't know what she's talking about!"

"Roger, I'm not stupid! I know how you are! You were just like this with April, too!"

So begins the beginning of the end.

Mark stumbled into the bedroom, dropping onto the mattress on the floor.

"This is hard."

"Mark, I don't see why you think you have to baby Roger like that. Why you're forced to take all his crap. Why you drop everything you care about for him. Preventing suicide is one thing, Mark, but being someone's mother is an entirely different matter. When is the last time you filmed anything since she died? When is the last time you could sleep in the same room with me for a whole night without having to jump up and help him?"

"You don't understand. This isn't---"

"Isn't what?"

"You know what? I don't have to explain myself to you! I don't have to tell you why I do the things I do! I think you're just trying to find something wrong with me so you can break us up and go back to Maureen!" Joanne was shocked.

"I--- you--- I mean---"

"You know, I was going to invite you to meet my parents! But now---"

"Well, I'm surprised you would tear yourself away from poor, poor Roger for even long enough to take a piss, let alone however it takes you to go to Scarsdale!"

"Roger isn't my life you know! He's not my girlfriend!"

"That's news to me!" she shouted, and walked out of the loft, slamming the door behind her.