1Chapter 10
"What on earth? .. OMIGOD! It IS my birthday! How the hell did you remember and I didn't?" Mimi's eyes were as wide as the plate Roger set on her lap. He wasn't famous for his memory.
"Oh, you see, IT DOES NOT END with these amazingly fluffy and golden waffles. OR with this fresh squeezed orange juice, THANK YOU VERY MUCH. Oh no, I have had this day planned since before you started reminding me about your birthday." Roger spoke with such enthusiasm that a passer-by would have assumed he had just been elected president, or more rather, that it was ROGER'S birthday.
Mimi stared at the plate without taking a bite . "This is amazing."
"Then why don't you EAT some." Roger knew this would be hard for her. "Please? The doctor said that you're going to gain about 30 pounds in the next 7 months and you're getting on the scale as soon as you're done breakfast, which you are going to finish. Eat." He cut a piece of waffle and shoved it in Mimi's mouth without warning.
She attempted yelling at him with her mouth full and waffle erupting like a human volcano. "Whathefuckaremyoudoifng .. BLUB." She swallowed unwilling as she thought to herself. 'Omigod. He's gonna find out how much I weigh. And he's going to get really mad.' She took another bite and smiled.
"Swallow it." Roger remained sitting right next to her until she finished every bite and had downed the orange juice.
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"Well? Get on the scale!" Roger had asked three times already. Mimi stood there in her underwear and a big tshirt, staring at the scale. They didn't have food in the house, or heat or electricity, but they HAD to have a working scale. She stepped on and closed her eyes.
"Roger, please don't get mad."
He waited for the dial to settle on a number and squinted. The scale couldn't be right. It just couldn't. The number disgusted him. Roger began calmly. "Marima Marquez. You're killing yourself."
"It's not that bad, Roger. I look fine, but I could still lose some more."
Roger started turning red. "DO .. YOU .. REALLY .. ONLY .. WEIGH .. 87 .. FUCKING .. POUNDS?"
"Last Friday I weighed 84 .." Mimi whimpered as if that would console Roger.
Roger turned around. He couldn't face her, but he still wanted to carry out the birthday plans he had worked so hard on. "Come on, there's a few things we're going to do today."
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Back in his apartment, Collins picked up the phone.
"Hey! Jo?"
"Yeah? Collins?"
"Of course! About Mimi's party tonight, it's at the Life, right?"
"Yeah, at 8."
"What'd you get her? I'm lost for an idea here."
"Well I got her that really expensive tequila she likes, so she won't have to work in the wee hours of the morning to make enough to buy some. Maureen got her a big bottle of Kahlua."
"Wow, Jo, I'm sensing a theme here."
"You should get her some Stoli! And Mark could get rum! This is going to be a FUN PARTY."
Collins gave an evil laugh, "We are too bad, you know that right? See you at 8."
"Bye."
He hung up the phone.
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"Hello?"
"Hey, Mark, it's Joanne."
"Joanne? Hey! What's up?"
"I just called Collins, we're all getting Mimi a different kind of booze for her birthday. He's getting Stoli, Maureen got Kahlua, and I got tequila. We were thinking you should get rum, like some good Captain Morgan or something. Well?"
"But .. But!"
"Yes?"
Mark murmured incomprehensively. "Budialreadyhavagift."
"Excuse me?"
"But I already have a gift."
"OOH OOH WHAT'D YOU GET?"
"No, you're going to laugh at me."
"Probably, but tell me anyways!"
"No."
"Fine, then tonight at the party I might accidentally let slip what you did on Maureen's birthday."
"This birthday, as in the one where you guys were a couple?"
"Correct. That one."
"OH MY GOD. Ok I'll tell you. I knitted her a scarf."
"You knit?"
"I made her a matching scarf that's the same as mine. SHOOT ME THEN."
"Woah Mark. You knit? Where'd you pick that up?"
"If I get the rum, do I have to answer that?"
Joanne was silent for a moment. ".. No."
Mark hung up the phone and grabbed one of the two scarves that was sitting on the kitchen counter.