Disclaimer: I do not own Rent.
Chapter 4: Ready or not: Forget Regret
Maria spent most of Christmas day contemplating whether she should go to the Life Café and see all her old friends. She didn't want to cut them out of her life, well it wasn't her intention. She loved them all. But when Angel died and she and Roger broke up she convinced herself that there was no connection holding her there, wanting her there. So when she left the clinic and resigned herself to die, she didn't think anyone would care, or look for her. When Maureen and Joanne had told her that they looked desperately for her, Maria was surprised.
"What's up kiddo?" Maria's dad asked her when he noticed her staring off into space.
"I was just thinking Papa. Did you look for me when I ran away?"
"Yes, of course. Constantly. The doctors said you couldn't possibly survive out in the cold with a wound like… what you had. The police believed the doctors and stopped looking after a month. But I, I never stopped looking." He smiled at her, wondering what was going through her head.
"You know, your mother would like to see you. She's always calling me and Lucy, asking us about you. She's sorry. For whatever she said. Why don't you give her an opportunity to apologize?"
"She's not my mother!" Maria shouted coldly. Maria's father sighed. Marquez women could be so stubborn, and Maria was no exception.
Maria got up and walked to her bedroom. Her mother was a sore subject for her. She had tried hard to find a way to forgive her mother, but every time she tried she's found herself crying and a wreck. In Maria's eyes, it wasn't worth the pain. A long time ago she had told herself to forget regret. And so maybe the repetition of the saying caused her to overlook that maybe all that pain she felt when looking back on that moment is because she's missed her mother. Or maybe she was just too stubborn to admit it.
Running away from the hospital was no easier than escaping from catholic boarding school, and certainly no easier than escaping under house arrest. But I had done it before, so I couldn't be bothered to take into account that I was weak and wounded and potentially sick. After the nurses came by and administered the pain killer, I decided to make a run for it, after all I felt like I was walking on air (morphine). I quickly pulled the IV out and hopped out of bed. It was more like fall out of bed, but that doesn't really matter. I excited my room and looked out the hall, it was empty, aside from a couple of nurses watching the television. And then I made a run for it. It was a simple getaway. The nurses hadn't noticed, but I think deep down I wanted them to. I wanted them to notice me and chase me down the halls, to call security when the situation got a little too ridiculous. I wanted security to take me down, drag me back to my room and tell me that life sucks, and that's just how life is. Maybe I didn't want security to notice, maybe I didn't want the nurses to notice, maybe I really wanted my father to notice, my sister to notice and maybe even my mother to notice. But nobody noticed, maybe that's what I wanted.
With all this talk about what I might have wanted, I can't help but think what did I want. Even as a child I never really strived to be something. I never really saved up my money to buy anything. I was just a kid, a fifteen year old kid, who had no expectations for her own life. I didn't have any money, I didn't have any clothes, I didn't have a future. I had never planned one out. I liked literature and poetry and dance and flirting with boys. I liked being a kid who didn't worry about the future, who never had any aspirations to be a doctor or a writer or anything. And I suppose in the long run, my lack of future kept me on the streets. I didn't have anything to go back to, no dream to try to live.
So when I walked out that hospital door and the cold air hit my face. I didn't turn back, because I didn't have anything back there. My mother told me to die, (I was going to die), my sister visited me once, my father wasn't around, I had been raped, and my brother was dead. I didn't feel like I had a home, and I certainly had no plans to find a home. I just didn't want to be there, or in the hospital, or alone.
I ran a few blocks away from the hospital, I never looked back, but I wanted to. When I ran out of breath, I turned down an alley way. I still wasn't thinking straight, I was still high off morphine. I walked down the alley and weaseled by way between some boxes. I closed my eyes.
When I woke up the pain killer had worn off and I was in immense pain. A bullet into the chest hurts like a mother fucker. I could barely breathe, and I only managed to because holding my breath or not breathing hurt too. My eyes were welling up with tears and I tried to block out the cold. The doctors had said that the smallest of colds could weaken my immune system immensely. I don't know why I had remembered that then, but it didn't put me at ease, nor had it not.
It had probably been a few days since I had walked down the alley and I hadn't left. I had rolled onto my stomach, somehow it eased my pain a little. Truthfully I had expected some person of authority to find me, I wasn't that far away from the hospital. But my first human contact was someone not looking to find me, in fact they were skin heard smoking a joint and harassing homosexuals. At this point I hadn't known Raffe to be gay, and despite my strong catholic beliefs, I never thought there to be anything wrong with people trying to find love. Maybe it was the beatnik poets, that had influenced my thoughts.
"Hey fag boy…" One of the skin heads started. I just kept still.
"No I think it's a fag girl" the other one antagonized.
"Maybe it's a trannie…" the first one started again.
"Actually I'm a drag queen. And let me tell you something boys, I'm more of a man then you'll ever be and more of a woman than you'll ever get."
"Let's get him." The skin heads went after the drag queen but the drag queen raised her foot and kicked them down with her heels. One of them fell back and hit my foot. I winced but didn't move. The skin head looked down at my bare foot, which must have been freezing and he freaked out.
"Let's get of here." The skin head grabbed his friend and ran out of the alley.
I was really cold and in a lot of pain. I didn't know why but I felt that I could trust the drag queen. I mean what's the worst that can happen, A) She runs off scared for her life, B) kicks me with her boots, C) forces me to go to the hospital and return home.
"Excuse me…Help…" I spoke but my voice was so soft and sore from not being used for the last couple of days that I didn't think I would be heard. But I was.
"Is anyone there?" I heard the voice and tried to move or speak or do something to attract attention but instead I just starting crying. I wasn't aware of anything until I felt a warm hand on my back.
"Are you okay?" I didn't answer I just started crying more. The voice was so calm and so caring. I thought I was being touched by an angel.
"Are you an Angel?" I finally said. I guess I must have thought I had died.
"No, my name is Dumont. But I am trying to come up with a non gender specific name, so thanks for the suggestion." Dumont laughed, and I felt compelled to laughed back, so I did.
"Can you walk?" Dumont asked. I nodded my head, and tried to stand. The pain in my chest burned and as much as I tried to work through it, I couldn't. I shook my head and started to cry again.
"Here I got you girl. No need to cry." Dumont picked me up and cradled me in his arms.
"Honey, I may dress like a woman, but I have the strength of a man. And you, my dear child, weigh like nothing. So don't you give me that surprised look." Dumont was easy to get along with even though I had hardly spoken a word to him.
"Where are you taking me?" I asked panicked, although I do not why.
"Home. Well, to my home. Is there anywhere else you'd like to be?" Dumont asked this with a hint of sarcasm, like he or she or in between identities knew I was a runaway.
"That's fine. I'm really tired." I closed my eyes to relax but eventually I fell asleep. When I woke up I was covered in blankets and laying in a semi comfortable bed.
"Angel?" I called out, again I didn't know why, especially since his name was Dumont. However, Dumont showed up within seconds, he was no longer wearing his drag. I wondered how long I had been sleeping.
"I'm boiling some water, to clean that wound of yours. It looks pretty nasty and the dressing probably should have been changed days ago." Dumont looked at me, maybe trying to read me or convince me to go back to the hospital. I opened my mouth to explain but quickly shut it when I realized I didn't really want to explain.
"I'm not here to pry, sweetie. I just want to help, but you got to trust me a little." I nodded my head.
"I need you to take off your shirt." Considering what had started this whole thing, I was mortified at that request. I trusted Dumont, oddly enough, but I wasn't about to take my shirt off in front of some man.
"Honey. I need to clean that wound. You've bled through the dressing and your, uh, um, hospital gown. It could get infected or something. Do you understand?" I never understood why Dumont had asked me that.
"It's just uh, my uncle, he uh, and then, and I just can't." Dumont nodded sadly, he put together the words and filled in the blank. I was afraid, though, that Dumont would just take it off for me.
"I'll be right back, chica." When Dumont returned he was wearing his drag. Well, his wig and his dress. No boots and no makeup, but it was sufficient enough to make me relax and take off my shirt.
"Angel, my angel, there's uh something you should know." I stopped her right before she was able to clean my wound.
"I uh, probably have HIV." Dumont looked at me and smiled sadly.
"Yeah, sweetie, me too."
That was how I met my Angel. Dumont who later became Angel Dumont Schunard. Angel who saved me from the cold, who saved me from a definite death. Angel who was my friend and my soul mate and who died in her lovers arms claiming that life was worth living.
Maria rolled over and looked at the alarm clock. Had she really fallen asleep for a few hours? It was the best sleep she had gotten in weeks. It was uninterrupted by pitter pattering little munchkin feet, no upset stomach or coughing attacks, and no stupid 4 am alarm clocks. She rolled onto her back and stared at the ceiling. Her eyes were a little blurry and when she went to rub them she noticed they were wet.
"Hey!" Maria turned to the doorway and there stood Angela.
"Hi." Maria answered meekly.
"Dreaming about Angel again?" Angela asked. Maria simply nodded.
"At least I slept." Angela nodded.
"So, um, what happened?"
"I remembered why I ran away in the first place. Is it alright if crash your party and your, uh home, for you know, like forever."
"Eh, beats having to clean your room." Maria answered nonchalantly, but the huge smile on her face was a dead give away.
"So I heard the message from Roger. You going?" Angela was back for two minutes and was already prying into her personal life. Angela reminded Maria of Maureen, always trying to gossip and have fun and avoid the deep questions.
"I wanted to, I thought I would, but I am not ready. I can't see him, not now, not with the twins and Dominic being so sick. I can't see Collins, I can't see Mark, I can't even see Benny. It's just too soon. I don't want to see the girls either. I moved on, Angela."
"Seems to me, you haven't moved on at all." Lucy, who was standing behind Angela, remarked.
"If you moved on, little hermana, you'd want to see them. It sounds like you're avoiding them, you're afraid. Of what? I don't know. But I think, you're afraid they're mad at you, that they'll complicate your life. But that's just what I think." Lucy backed away at Maria's evil stare with her hands up in the air.
"I think you should at least call." Angela said before walking off. "Oh and Dinner is in fifteen minutes." She yelled back at the young mother.
After dinner and after the kids were put to bed, which was easy since they had spent all day running around and playing with their toys, Maria sat by the phone. She stared at it, hoping it would combust. But finally she dialed the number to the loft, she hoped she got the generic "Speak" message machine.
"Speeeaaaaakkkk" The voices of Roger, Mark, and Collins filled the air. Maria took a deep breath.
"Hi, this is um Mimi, I got your message Rog…" The phone was picked up.
"…er…"
"Hey, Mimi, it's Mark. How you doing? You are coming to the Life, right? It'll be so much fun. I think we can get Benny to come and be an asshole if you'd life. Roger would really like it, if you came…"
"Mark, slow down, please. I can't go. I want to, I really do, but I have a previous engagement to attend to. Wow, that sounded really lame and uh posh. Honestly, Mark, I'm not ready… to see him." Maria squinted her eyes closed and hoped that Mark would understand.
"Oh, yeah I understand. If you change your mind though…"
"I'll definitely be there." She cut him off.
"Well um, bye." Mark hung up the phone before she could respond. She sighed. No, she didn't regret this, it was for the best.
Mark looked over at Roger, who had just walked in the loft. Roger had a huge smile on his face, obviously excited about seeing Mimi, who clearly didn't want to see him. Roger put the groceries down on the metal table and walked over to the duct tape couch and plopped down.
"Rog, that was Mimi on the phone." Roger sat up and looked at Mark.
"You couldn't keep her on for a few more minutes. I'd like to hear her voice again." Roger's smile got bigger as he once again imagined seeing Mimi. Mark suddenly hated his best friend responsibilities. He could easily lie to Roger, hell Mimi tried to lie, but she was honest in the end. And as much as Mark wanted to trust his instincts and be mad at Mimi, he couldn't. This was hard for her, she had to step back into a life she left behind. She had to see a man that left her while she was dying, whose absence clearly made her want to die or disappear. No, Mark couldn't blame her for not being ready.
"Roger, she can't make it. She said she wasn't ready to see you." Mark hated watching Rogers face fall, but it did, and he did.
"Oh. Well, we're still going, right?" Mark nodded his head and Roger grabbed the phone, the gum wrapper, and sauntered off to his room.
"Hello" Maria answered in a yawn.
"When will you be ready?" Roger asked, clearly annoyed.
A/N: Sorry for the delay my faithful readers. I tend to write when i should be doing school work or something, and now that the term began i'm back to writing my stories. And truthfully all your recent reviews reminded me of this story, so kudos to you. I hope the wait is worth it. Sorry there isn't much Roger/Mimi dialogue. But you have to understand, Maria isn't ready to step back into her old life. She's afraid to love again, she's afraid to live again. Roger represents love and life. But next chapter, she'll be thrown together with them all. I'm not sure if Roger will find out he's a father though. And there is, of course, no guareentee that while i am waiting for your reviews, i won't change any of what i just wrote. Also, i don't think this is clear but her fatherobviously didn't read her book. If you want, i'll address that in the next chapter. Also, you can also tell me your ideas. I'll more than likely be able to write it in, unless of course you just want mimi/roger action, in which case you're in it for the long run. Anyway, i hope you enjoyed.