It became clear very quickly that pregnancy was going to suck for Mimi. Her breasts got sore and huge very quickly (Roger didn't mind…how big of him, right?). She had to pee every 15 minutes and she couldn't ever hold her breakfast down. She always wanted to have sex (once again, Roger didn't mind) and she cried about everything ("Oh, no! This banana turned brown! It was so young! God, why couldn't you just take me instead! sobs).
She quit her job at the Cat Scratch. She knew she was going to get fired in a few months, anyway. When she stopped stripping, she wanted it to be her choice. Roger put on his best responsibility hat got Sam from his band to hook him up with a job at his shitty music store, fixing shitty guitars for shitty musicians for shitty pay. But it was work and it was only a few hours a day.
Two days after she told Roger, when she was only about 5 weeks along, everyone came over for a sort of celebration thing. And for once, Mimi didn't have to cook.
"Did you seriously cook all of this?" She asked skeptically as she helped Collins set out the meal on the coffee table.
"Why?" he said, almost seductively. "Would that impress you?"
"Perhaps…"
"Well, then I made it!"
She raised her eyebrows. "So the Life Café does take-out now?"
He frowned and tried his very best to look innocent. "Well, yeah, there's that." She laughed and they all took their places around the coffee table, Mimi in the place of honor in the center of the couch.
Maureen walked around filling everyone's champagne glasses. "Bubbly," she announced in her show-host voice, "For the luck non-pregnant people over the age of 21. And for our darling mommy-to-be, apple cider."
"Lucky me…" Mimi sighed. "I have to pee."
"Well, hold it in," Roger said, and raised his glass. "A toast. To the future Roger Junior."
"Roger Junior?" She cried. "Yeah right! The only way you're getting away with that for a boy is if it's Mimi Junior for a girl."
"Nuh-uh!" he said childishly. "Junior is only for boys!"
"Chauvinistic pig," she muttered.
"Oh, stop," said Maureen. "We both know you'll be naming it after me!"
"But…what if it's a boy?" Roger asked, taking a sip. Mimi looked at him enviously.
"Then Maureen-the-boy!"
Mimi giggled and suddenly slapped Collins's arm. "Get yo' hands off my belly, boy. I swear if, if one more person touches me there…And we should name it after a famous author."
"Why?" Roger said, taken aback. "Oh, God, this isn't about your Peter Pan obsession, is it? Because no son of mine is going to be called James. Then he'll become a lawyer and I hate lawyers." She shrugged. "And what would a girl be? Jamie? Yuck."
"No," she said, "Maya. For the Angelo of that name."
"Whatever," Joanne intervened. She raised her glass. "To the future baby Davis."
"Marquez!" Mimi shouted.
"Oooooh," Roger said. "I see. You're cool with sleeping with me, but you don't want to marry me so the kid can have your last name. Well, that's fair."
"Oh, shut up," she teased, "We both established that matrimony is a dictatorial symbolic observance with no purpose other than to augment our taxes and condemn us to melancholy." Everyone looked at her, dumbstruck. "Sorry…" she said, "My mom sent me a word-a-day calendar. I'll stop using it."
Roger got down on one knee and took her hands in his and said with the utmost sincerity, "My life meant nothing until you used my toothbrush."
"Awww," Mimi grinned from ear to ear and had to bite her lip hold in laughter. "I love you, too."
They kissed until Mark chucked a candid Polaroid he's just taken of them shoving their tongues down each other's throats. "Honestly. You guys are disgusting. I mean, really." He raised his glass once more and said, "To Roger Mimi Maureen James Maya Davis-Marquez, the result of Mimi's and Roger's continuous disgustingness!"
"Cheers!" They finally cried. Mimi took a sip then stood up quickly.
"Sorry, guys," she whined, "But I really have to pee!"
She came back in a few minutes, bladder empty, and dug in to the "home cooked" meal.
"So," Joanne said. "Any regrets about all this?"
Mimi shrugged. "I wish I was older. But that doesn't count as regret, and I guess it doesn't matter so much. I do wish I wouldn't have to drop out of school. Anyway, I thought we all agreed to forget our regrets so…"
Maureen slammed her plate down on her lap. "What do you mean, "drop out of school"? God, Mimi! This is your fucking dream!"
"I know…" she said, "But I have to be responsible."
"Responsible-shmonsible. I hope you know that that baby isn't just your baby."
"Yeah, man," Collins said. "I mean, it's all of ours."
Mark tickled Mimi's belly (much to her annoyance) and said in his best baby-talk voice, "Yes you are my little Markie-junior! Yes you are! Can I give you a kiss? Can I give you a kiss?"
"No."
"Right…" He sat down and put his hands in his lap. "Sorry, Meems. But dude…we're a family. I am henceforth Uncle Mark. And Junior here can spit up on me all he wants while you're at school or whatever."
"Babe," said Roger, "Did you really think any of us were going to let you drop out?" She started to cry again. "Oh, God…" he mumbled. He hated showing emotions and he hated crying women.
"I really do love you guys," she blubbered. They all moseyed over for a great big group hug. "Um, guys? All this love is great and everything but…"
"You have to pee again."
"YES!"
A/N: You like? WERRRD. Review or I will eat your soul. Like, seriously. I have this jar by my bed and I call it my soul jar. And in it are all the souls of people who don't review my fan fictions. I use them for midnight snacks. I also eat freshmen.
Only not really.
Ta.