To Dance-Chapter 3
...pain...perfection...
Early the next morning Mimi sauntered into Miss Megan Miller's Dance Studio on Avenue D and 16th street. It was where all the "Cat Scrach" dancers went to learn they're chorography 'If you can call being whipped by sadistic fucks in tight pants choreography.' Mimi thought bitterly. Since the club was getting new dancers next week she was going to have to do her best if she wanted to keep paying the rent.
A latin/techno beat was playing on someone's boom box. Mimi started out with the newest number for next weekend. (This song actually had some non-bondage danceing in it.) Mimi never liked to focas on herself when she danced. Face the mirror, see all of your mistakes, see all the scars from the nevers and maybes. See the fucking single idiot who can't stop hurting people
'Now isn't the time for that. Now is the time to focas on not loseing your job. 5...6...7...8...beat...leap...half turn...high kick...twirl into split...artistic collapse...back bend up...and last but not least...Torjete' "Omph!" Mimi exclaimed landing on her ass like the failure she thought she was. 'Well that definatly won't do. back bend...Torjete...and crash! Fuck that hurt!'
Mimi spent the rest of the day perfecting her tojete and landing on her ass more often than not. By the time she got back to her apartment the only thing she could do with her remaining strength was sit down. But she couldn't do that, because her couch was occupied...by a beautiful boy with a loveing smile and rough fingers from hours of playing the guitar.
"Well well well...hello Roger. Have you come to yell at me some more? Oh wait no...you're sorry. You're so so so so sorry. You're so sorry that your own personal shit has to fuck up everyones elses life!"
"No" he replied simply.
"Then what the fuck are you doing in my apartment?"
"Mimi...we...we can't...we can't do this anymore."
"Wha...what?"
"I went to the doctor today. My T-cells are really low, and I can't help feeling like the whole world is just gonna collapse under me one of these day. Probably sooner than later."
"How...how much...?
"A year. Maybe a year and a half if I get out of New York. I just can't stay here with you when we're at each other's throuts every second of the day. I can't live like this anymore. It's..it's not healthy. I'm sorry."
Tears pricked the back of her eyes "Roger I..."
"Don't! Just make it easier on yourself. Goodbye Mimi."
The door of Mimi's apartment closed and that was the last Mimi would ever see of Roger Davis.
10 months later...
"Hey it's the Feline of Avenue B. Leave a message at the moo."
beep
"Mimi? Are you there? Mimi please pick up if you're there! Okay you're not there. Mimi it's Mark. Roger's in the hospital. He collapsed last night at a gig and he's been in a coma since. He did wake up for a second and the doctors said the only thing he said for a full minute was your name over and over again. He needs you Mimi. Please come...he's...he's dieing." sob click
Mimi didn't hear anything past the word hospital and was up and out the door in a matter of seconds. Getting to the hospital was a blur. Mimi can't even remember if she used public transportation or walked or anything. All she remembers was not being allowed in.
"I'm sorry Ma'am but the dress code says we can't let you in dressed like some street walker." said the woman behind the reception desk. She popped her gum in an annoying way that made Mimi just want to shoot her.
"But...but my boy...my friend is about to die! Why can't you let me in?"
"I doubt we would let any of your kind through these doors. Try the free clinic on 13th."
Mimi walked out of the corrupt hospital trying to remember a time when socitey wasn't so screwed up that you could actually walk into a hospital without haveing to dress like it was Tavern on the Green.
As Mimi approched her door she stopped and pressed an ear to it. Someone in her apartment was crying. She opened the door to find someone expressing wracking sobs on her answering machean and then Mark's voice..."Mimi...he's gone."
click