1They all watched her lying in the hospital bed with her eyes closed. Her body was unmoving. She was never this calm, even for someone with AIDS, she was always full of energy and life. Now she was anything but full of life, and it seemed that her time was soon to come. At the foot of the bed was a clipboard hanging by a skimpy yellow piece of yarn. Marima Marquez, age 20, HIV positive, Tuberculosis.
Her skin was pale and clear, matching the clean linen sheet, except for a red stain that was a constant reminder of the blood that she was coughing up. That blood was so dangerous to the rest of the world, but her six friends never thought anything of it. They were used to HIV and AIDS by now, after having four be diagnosed and losing one to complications of the disease. There were occasional times where half of your friends having AIDS was inconvenient. Of course, a greatly diminished life span is one problem. But there were times when Mimi would fall in her boots, drunk, and get cut up, when all Maureen could do was step back and tell her to clean herself up. Mimi was one that everyone longed to help; it might have been because she was the youngest, most impressionable, and in the good times, all the friends could forget that she was not going to live to see a better life. Now, at the time when Mimi needed the most help, all her friends could do was be the onlookers and hope she could clean herself up again.
Joanne's POV
Little Mimi, my little Mimi. I wish she could make it through this. Every minute I sit here, I wait for a shooting star to pass by the window, just so I can wish harder. Wishing and hoping isn't like me. I think everyone even sees me as the practical one, not the dreamer. That's Maureen. No. As much as I love Maureen, she isn't a true dreamer. She's just got goals way too high for her too reach. Mimi's is the true dreamer among us. She never set goals for herself, but secretly aspired to reach that level. I think that's the real difference between true dreamers and people who other consider to be dreamers. True dreamers work to make their lives better, and everyone else just sets goals for themselves that are too high to reach. If I learned one thing from Mimi, it's how to dream and live in the moment. No Day But Today. I think today's Mimi's day.
Collins's POV
I feel like I never knew her. We only had a year together. One year. How do you measure a year? In daylights? In sunsets? In midnights? In cups of coffee? In inches? In miles? In laughter? In strife? Whenever you were around Mimi, you measured a year in shots, or love. Love suits the big picture much more, but much of the time Mimi spent with me was measured in shots. Yes, shots of alcohol, but unfortunately, other shots too. I can't believe that all that shit didn't kill her. Or maybe it did. I mean, that's how she got AIDS, isn't it? Actually, I'm not even sure about that. There's so much I never knew about her, and so much more I will never know. I don't think she's going to make it through this. I just can't believe how short she was with us. 525,600 minutes with Mimi.
Maureen's POV
She's not dying. So, tomorrow, I'll ask her where she wants to go party this weekend. So, Friday, we'll go to this big club, and neither one of us will dance with any girls (or guys, I forgot Mimi isn't a lesbian) except each other. And we'll get so drunk that we'll have to ask someone else to make sure we didn't moon Benny or strip for random men or something (wait, I forgot Mimi does that anyways). But the point is, she's not leaving us. I need her more than I need Joanne sometimes. I just hate when I can't help her. She came to me when she wanted to quit heroin. She came to me when Roger was being an asshole. Those things I wasn't emotionally able to handle. But the night that she got raped, and came to my door and I couldn't wipe the blood off her face and the tears out of her eyes killed me. It's not that I didn't want to get AIDS, I don't even care anymore. Everyone's going to die anyways, so I might as well too. But Mimi wouldn't let me touch her for my sake. She wants me to live on to carry forth the bohemian legacy. I just pray that I can do it for her. I never followed religion, but whenever I feel bad, I like to imagine that my friends will go to heaven. Angel I'm sure got in. If they didn't let her in she probably stripped for the guards of heaven for free entry or something. But Mimi was pretty messed up. Normal people wouldn't see through that, and they might just send her to hell. Mimi is too special of a person to be understood. I wish I could write God a letter of recommendation for her or something. If there is heaven and hell. And if she's going to die. Not even if, because she's not going to. I need her too much.
Roger's POV
Why can't I just die instead? Just, something kill me. I would probably go end this right now if it weren't for Mimi. She has to live through this and I have to be there for her. Memories aren't good enough for Mimi. You don't feel the depth of her eyes in memories. You don't feel the power of her laugh in memories. You don't feel the warmth of her body in memories. You don't taste her soft lips in memories. I need the real thing. If only we could have been together sooner. WHY WAS I SUCH AN IDIOT, God? Why am I even talking to God. God doesn't fucking exist. If there was a God, I wouldn't even need to talk to him because nothing bad would happen. Why did life deal such an amazing person like Mimi such shit? Not shit like a sucky stripping job. I mean shit as in AIDS and an infection that'll kill you. I mean heroin addiction and a boyfriend who never really gave enough. What's shit is that now she only has memories of life instead of the real thing, unless God finally comes through. I won't hold my breath. Life is complete shit sometimes, and amazing the others, and if it weren't for Mimi, I probably wouldn't have let myself live this long to experience anything amazing as my relationship with her. Mimi.
Mark's POV
It's so different now. I wasn't there when Angel died. Now I'm watching my best friend slip away. And I didn't bring my camera. I guess I didn't feel that a camera could ever do Mimi justice. You had to experience her, not just see her on film. I think that's why I could never pick up the camera when I was around her. Why our entire year strewn on the cutting room floor of memories, when single frames rom one magic night forever flicker in close-up on the 3-D Imax of my mind? In retrospect, Mimi taught me that life can't be captured, only lived. You have to live in the moment, not store it away more a more convenient time to bring it out again. Imagine if I was just now breaking out the roll of film or her withdrawal. She probably wouldn't have lived even this long. What if we were just now watching her perform? How about the time when she got up on the bar in the Life and started singing and dancing to a full restaurant. We wouldn't have followed behind, she led us onto those tables, Mimi dragged us all through her short life at an amazing speed. She did everything so quickly. Her life was short and quick, but lived deeply in the moment. I don't know how she could have possibly been the person she was. She was so edgy, who else would even think of taking Roger's hand and just shoving it down their bra? But Mimi was a unique person. Someone who couldn't be captured on film. If I close my eyes, I can still hear her sing. "There is no future, there is no past, I live this moment as my last. There's only us, there's only this forget regret, or life yours to miss, no other road, no other way, no day but today."
Mimi's POV
Everything is so warm, even though I'm standing in the street. It looks just like the night that I came home from work to Roger's place, but he kicked me out. He was standing on the balcony. So beautiful. I love him so much. Mark, Collins, Maureen, and Joanne were behind me, telling me to go up the stairs to go see him. I climbed each flight of the 3 sets of stairs into the bright light. Roger was waiting at the top of the stairs for me, standing next to Angel. Angel walked over and whispered to me. 'Turn around girlfriend, and listen to that boy's song.' Roger picked up his guitar and began to play Your Eyes for me. Everything was so sweet! When he finished, he reached inside his pocket and pulled out something I couldn't see. I guessed what it was when he knelt down in front of me. 'Mimi Marquez, will you marry me? Will you spend every day of the rest of our lives with me? I love you.' He got up from the floor and we kissed. It was like no other kiss before. 'Forever and ever. We'll be together longer than that. I'll love you forever and longer.' Everything went white, and I couldn't see, but I could tell that Roger was with me.
All 5 of the friends turned their heads towards the heart rate monitor, which was now sending out a single note of discordant music. What would have been a heartrending moment was silently joyous. Everyone had unconsciously been prepared for her physical death. Mimi was home, and no one in the room doubted that their lives had been changed for good by this very special girl.She would live on in their hearts forever.