So sorry it took so long, but i had finals and work and so on, and fan fiction was the last thing on my mind. Enjoy, and please review!
Roger sat on the bed, nervously fiddling with his needles. Mimi was just getting in the shower. That would buy him some time. It took her forever to shower, now that she could barely bend down to shave her legs. She was about 8 months pregnant. Christmas was coming and her semester was over. She was always home, which meant he didn't have any time for this, since he could never ever let her know what he was doing. His dignity depended upon it.
He started doing his thing. Then, suddenly, his door burst open and Mimi came in, muttering something about forgetting her towel. He immediately hid the needles behind his back and smiled innocently.
"What were you doing, Roger?"
"Nothing!" he said a little too quickly.
She raised her eyebrows. "What are you hiding?"
"Nothing! God Mimi, go away." Busted.
She peered behind him. "Oh my God," she said. "Are those…needles?"
"No!" he snapped. "Go take your shower. You smell."
"Oh my God," she gasped. "Those are needles!" She smiled. "Those are knitting needles! You're knitting! Holy God, lemme see! …And shut up, I smell like peaches."
"Yeah, moldy peaches. Anyway, I don't know what you're talking about, Mimi," he muttered, blushing. "Go away."
"No way!" She giggled, climbing on top of him. "Let me see!" He sighed and relented. He couldn't say no to Mimi. "Awwwww!" She squeaked when she showed him his knitting. "It's a baby blanket! You're knitting a baby blanket! I can't wait to tell Mark!"
Ugh. Mark would never let him live it down. Not after the great Cher incident of '88. But he said nothing, and just smiled at her. "I'm glad to see you happy. It's been a while, you know. Since you smiled like this." It was true. Her mom had died over a month and a half ago, and she just hadn't been herself since the funeral. She didn't cry anymore. She didn't even seem that depressed. She was just…numb. It felt like ages since she'd really laughed.
"How long have you been knitting?" She pressed, still laughing.
"Since I made my sister teach me when I was four. And I crochet, too, thank you very much."
"So…" she said, biting her lip to keep from cracking up too much, "did you make the sheets?"
"You can't knit sheets, Mimi. Be practical. Though you know Collins's hat? That's a Roger Davis original. And Mark's ever so lovely scarf. But shhhh. Don't tell him."
She gave a squeak and clapped her hands happily the way a child does for sheer amusement. "Don't worry, I won't tell him. Besides, that thing is butt-ugly."
He grinned. "You know, if Junior is a boy, we're teaching him how to knit. Screw society. Time to challenge gender rolls!"
"Hazzah," she yelled sarcastically. "Only if it can play football if we have a girl."
"She'll be crushed on the field!"
"Nuh uh! She's strong! She's kicking like a maniac! It's like she's doing freakin' laps in there!"
"Or he," Roger said.
"Or he," she agreed.
Glowing, she kissed him and said, "I'll leave you to your knitting."
Then she promptly stood up and left, closed the door behind her, went into the main room, sat on the couch, and burst into tears.
"Mimi?" said a voice from behind her. She recognized it as Collins's, and turned to see him standing on the fire escape, smoking. She quickly wiped her tears away with her sleeve and tried to avoid eye contact. "Something wrong?" he asked, coming back inside and plopping down next to her on the sofa.
"It's nothing," she whispered. "Just hormones."
"Don't lie to me, Mimi."
She shrugged. "It's Roger."
"You had another fight?" he guessed.
"No," she said. "He's so incredible. He's so excited about the baby. He's knitting a baby blanket."
"Why is that making you cry? Wait. What? He knits? You know, I thought he was gay after we caught him with a Cher tape a few years ago, but now…"
"That's not why I'm crying, Thomas," she said sharply.
He reached out his big dark hand and touched her hair ever so slightly. "Then why? Because Angsty Mimi is NOT working for me. Or the crazy Rentheads on fanfiction."
"What?"
"Nothing!" Collins said quickly.
"Oops…" EverAfter89 said. "Heh…Fuck that. Anyway…"
She glanced up at him through her long lashes. "Can you keep a secret?" He nodded. She said in a discreet voice, "Today…I was going to tell Roger that I wanted to, um…give the baby up…for adoption."
"What?" he said simply. "Why?"
"Oh come on, Collins," she snapped, disgusted. "How fucking selfish would it be to kept his baby? We have AIDS. We have AIDS. We're fucking dying. My mom died. I'm 21 and it's killing me. What will it be like for a little kid to loose both its parents? This blows."
He frowned and sat down next to her. "You know, once we're gone…it would still have Mark and Maureen and Joanne."
Mimi shrugged. "They're not the parents. It's not the same. Doesn't the baby deserve a normal life?" She studied the wood floors thoughtfully. "What does it matter? It's just a baby."
Collins raised an eyebrow. "Just a baby? Just a baby my ass. Is Roger 'just a boyfriend?' No, he's your fuckin' soul mate. Was Angel…" he wavered. "Was she just your friend? No, she was your best friend. And this isn't just a baby. It's YOUR baby. Your child. Which means only you can know what's right."
She nodded. "I'll tell him tomorrow." Collins gave her a look. "What?" She demanded.
"Tomorrow's Christmas Eve, Mimi. Maybe you should wait a few days, then. I mean, he's not going to take it well."
"You think?"
He let out a breath. "Before, he wanted to leave a song behind. But leaving a child behind? That's a thousand billion zillion times better than a song."
Mimi's heart sank. Collins was right. This would break Roger's heart. "Do you think we should keep the baby, then?"
"Gal, you said it yourself. I'm not its parent. Only you can know."
She knew that what he said was true. She stood up to hug him before heading back into her room for bed. "Philosophers…" she muttered.
Her stomach felt so heavy as she padded back to the bedroom. She peered over at Roger. He'd fallen asleep with his knitting. Now that Mimi thought about it, it really wasn't so funny. It just made her love him even more. The little blanket her was making was in a small ball on his lap. She picked it up and folded it gently and placed it on the nightstand. Then she went to his feet and removed his sneakers. Finally she covered him with their blanket and kissed his forehead. Then she waddled over to her side of the bed and lay down beside Roger. She let out a gasp of pain—the weight of the baby pushed against her spine, sending her feet into agonizing spasms.
She waited for sleep, and it eventually came, but she awoke suddenly when a hard cramp gripped her lower abdomen. She thought for a moment that maybe her time had come, but she wasn't due for another month and the pain wasn't more than that of a bad stomachache. But if she was indeed going into labor, if this was the worst of the pains, then perhaps it wouldn't be as terrible as she'd heard. She remembered the stories she'd heard at her baby shower. Women whose hearts stopped and babies came out with missing fingers and flesh ripping apart as the child passed through. They were lying, she decided. They were just playing a sick joke. After all, billions of women had had babies, and they did alright. So it couldn't be that bad.
In one of the baby magazines Maureen had bought her, there was a story about women in Africa who were pregnant, but were so busy with their work, that when they went into labor, the just kept on working in the fields or with their sewing or whatever, not even interrupting their labor. Then the baby would come and they'd just pull it out and chew off the chord themselves and keep on working for the rest of the day. She thought about fetching the overnight bag Roger had packed for her, but she was too heavy and tired. She yawned and rolled over on her side. Perhaps she shouldn't go to sleep if she actually was in labor. It really wasn't hurting that bad. She might sleep through the whole thing. What if she woke up and the baby was already born? That wouldn't be too good. Another pain came. This one was a little worse. It caused her to take in a deep breath and grip her sheets as she tried not to make a sound. False Labor, she told herself. I read about false labor. That's what's happening. She waited, and she could feel another contraction coming. She stood up right before it happened, and waddled quickly into the main room. She went to the couch and shoved the corner of a throw pillow into her mouth to stifle her cries. Why wake everyone? It's false labor!
Suddenly, Mimi fell to the floor. Her body curled, and she clenched her teeth trying to hold in another scream that came from deep inside where she could feel herself splitting open. When it finally passed, tears were coming down her cheeks.
"Mimi?"
It was Roger.
"Mimi?"
"I'm fiiiiiiine!" She cried as another contraction came. "I'm…."
Roger ran in. "Oh my God!" He saw her on the ground, a puddle of water beneath her feet. "Mimi." He said. He went to her side.
"I'm having a baby, Roger."
"I know."
"I wanted to give it up."
"What?"
"I'm having a baby, Roger."
"Yes, Mimi, and we need to get you to the hospital."
"Okay." She was barely lucid now.
"Mark! Mark!" Roger called. Moments later, Mark and Collins emerged from their room. "Mimi's in labor!"
Mark stared. "But…it's too soon!" He stammered. Roger shook his head in warning, so as not to worry Mimi."
"Can you stand?" Roger asked. She nodded. He helped her to her feet as Collins grabbed the overnight bag they'd packed, and went to call Maureen and Joanne. They left the apartment and reached the stairs. "Can you make it down?"
"I'll try." She nearly collapsed after the 3rd step. Roger took a deep breath, then lifted her into his arms and began to carry Mimi down the staircase. He winced and one could see his muscles strain as he carried her. Another contraction came (they were minutes apart now—it would only be a matter of hours before the baby came) and she thrashed in his arms. They came to the outside. The streets were deserted.
"Should we walk? Try to find a cab?" Mark offered.
Mimi got out of Roger's arms and stood in front of the men. "I'm in labor, a baby's coming, and I've got a shoe for of amniotic fluid. Do you REALLY want me walking 10 blocks?"
Before anyone could respond, a car came speeding up. Maureen was driving; Joanne was in the passenger seat. "Oh, Mimi!" Maureen sang out. "Come on, get in! Get in!"
Mimi's eyes widened. Maureen was driving in a car. A car that would be on roads. Roads with cats, children, and nuns crossing the street. "Um."
"Get in! Oh, come on, you only live once!"
Joanne gave her a look. "Do you really think that's incentive for her to get in this car?"
"Do you really think you'll be able to drive fast enough, miss perfect?"
"Whatever!" Mimi shouted, and climbed in the back with Roger. Mark and Collins said they'd meet them there and went to call Roger's parents.
Maureen slammed on the break and Roger let out a yelp, making Joanne laugh, as Mimi struggled to fasten her seat belt.
The next few minutes were all a blur. Mimi passed out from a combination of fear and pain. She would remember blood and screaming and many bright lights. She wouldn't remember how she got into the hospital and into a birthing room. She would barely remember the doctor saying, "The head is crowning, it's time to start pushing."
"But what about my cesarean section?"
"It's too late for that now, you need to push."
She looked to Roger for help, who was holding her hand. He said, "It's coming, Mimi."
Then she felt some part of herself tearing away as it pushed lower. The pain had a life of it's own as it twisted and stretched, straining against her. She was growing weak and her body was doing most of the pushing for her.
"Yes!" Roger cried. "I can see the head! Our baby has hair!"
She tensed up and pushed once more, silently, until she heard the doctor say, "Congratulations." He held up a tiny baby, covered in blood and fluid.
Mimi suddenly remembered one of the last things her mother had ever said to her before she died. "You just need to have Hope. Hope, Mimi. Hope is what keeps us strong, keeps us going. Hope for the best, and you will have the best."
Then everything went blank.
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