(A/N: I promise, no date mixups this time. This is my favorite chappy. Mark gets to bitch at Roger.)

(D.C: I rent)

July 21st 1991

The Loft

The love of my life died last week. Mimi Marquez, the most beautiful woman in the world, is gone. I couldn't write it or say it before now, but as they say "the first step to healing is admitting there's a problem", right? What the fuck ever. I'm sitting here writing this in my bedroom while Mark's in the living room, trying to make the brat stop crying. I know I should be feeling some kind of "fatherly love" or some shit like that, but it's her fault Mimi's gone. How can I love someone who took Mimi away from me? Dammit, and she looks just like Mimi too with her caramel skin and big brown doe-eyes. I can't even stand to look at her. She disgusts me.

God what I wouldn't give for a hit right now. Coke, smack, pot, whatever. Anything would be welcome. I just want out. Out of this loft, out of this city, out of this life. Unfortunately, that's not gonna happen. Mark's been watching me like a hawk since the night Mimi died. He's even been checking in on me while I'm asleep or if I'm in the bathroom too long. He probably thinks I'm gonna pull an April. I don't blame him. I would if I could. He's always been able to read my mind.

"Roger! Will you please come hold Eva while I make her a bottle?" Mark shouted from the living room. I sighed and closed my journal, then slipped the small leather book under my mattress. "ROGER!"

"I'm coming!" I shouted back. I came out of my bedroom and Mark shoved the screaming, squirming thing into my arms. She looked up at me and blinked, then fell silent, snuggling into my chest.

"Sit down on the couch with her. I'll get the bottle." Mark commanded. I plopped down awkwardly, looking at the little brat. She smiled her little baby smile and cooed at me. I sighed again and she reached for my finger, then began sucking on it.

"Why is she trying to eat my finger?" I asked.

"She's hungry. Here." Mark said, dropping the bottle on the couch next to me. "Feed your kid." he added, using the same tone of voice he used when he said 'take your AZT'.

"How the fuck do I do this?" I grumbled when she wouldn't open her mouth for the bottle.

"Rub it on her gums first, like this," he instructed. I did, and soon she was suckling away. "See?" Mark patted my shoulder. "You're a natural." He went back into the kitchen. Eva looked up at me with her big brown eyes.

"What are you looking at?" I asked gruffly.

"She's looking at the man who should be treating her like a daddy usually treats his daughter instead of treating her like what happened to Mimi was her fault." Mark muttered.

"What happened to Mimi was her--" I began childishly.

"No, Roger it wasn't! It was yours!" he shouted.

"What!"

"You and Mimi were selfish and irresponsible an because of it, this innocent little girl has no mother and an idiotic prick for a father who's so wrapped up in his own fucking pity party that he'd go so far as to blame a month old baby for his own mistakes!" The room went quiet save for Eva sucking on her bottle. I stood up angrily and shoved the baby into Mark's arms before storming out of the loft.

I didn't know where I was going, but soon I ended up at the cemetary. Mimi had been buried there a few days ago, right next to Angel. On Angel's other side was Collins. I sat down between the graves of my friends and my lover and began to sob.

"Collins, I could really use some advice right about now." I said to the granite slab in front of me. "You were always looking out for me. You always told me what I needed to do. I can't handle this life anymore, Collins. I have nothing left to live for..." As though they were answering my question, a picture of my little girl appeared in my mind. "Eva..." I turned to Mimi's headstone. "I miss you so much baby...I don't know what to do. I feel like such a jerk because of how I've been treating the baby, but I can't even stand to look at her, let alone hug and kiss her...Angel, I wish I could have learned more from you...how could you love everyone so much? I need you guys to help me learn how to love my baby girl..." I broke down into sobs, my tears blurring my vision. It was the first time I'd cried since that Christmas Eve Mimi had almost died. Now it was finally sinking in that she was gone for good. "Maybe Mark was right...maybe I am just a pathetic loser..."

"I never called you a loser." said a voice from behind me. I turned around to see Mark standing over me, Eva resting peacefully on his shoulder.

"What?" I asked, wiping my eyes, trying to hide the obvious fact that I'd spent the last 15 minutes crying my eyes out.

"I said I never called you a loser. I called you and idiotic prick, but I never said anything about you being a loser." I turned away and looked back at Mimi's headstone. "Roger, look--"

"Forget it." I muttered.

"No. I was outta line back there. I'm sorry Roger."

"You were only telling the truth." I sighed. "I'm a shitty father, just like mine was."

"You're learning. It takes time." he said, adjusting Eva on his shoulder. "All you have to do is try." I nodded and stood up, brushing myself off. I looked down at Mimi's grave and kissed my fingers before placing them over the engraving of her name.

"Te amo, mi amor..."I whispered. The four words of Spanish I'd ever bothered to learn. Mark watched me say goodbye and handed me my daughter when I held out my arms for her. Eva slept soundly in my arms all the way back to the loft.