Ok so I am reposting this story after several revisons and now I fear I might have actually lost the final chapter on my computer! So I am re-ordering my story while I look for it on the blasted thing.
Oh and I obviously don't own Rent... I Rent it. te he!
April Firgins- September First, Nineteen Eighty Eight
Angel Dumott Schunard- October Twenty-Ninth, Nineteen Ninety
Mimi Marquez- February Twelfth, Nineteen Ninety-one
Roger Davis- March Sixth, Nineteen Ninety-One
Maureen Johnson- December Twenty-Fourth, Nineteen Ninety-Six
Joanne Jefferson- December Twenty-Fourth, Nineteen Ninety-Six
Thomas Collins- May Sixth, Two Thousand and Six.
Death is always difficult, especially when they are so young, with so much potential…The Small church was packed. I would put down my paycheck that no one knew that it was suicide, and if any did they didn't know why. No one wanted us there, we knew that, but what did they think? That we wouldn't come?
We must try and remember April, as we knew her best…
Roger hadn't talked since the police came and took a statement. He wasn't eating, barely sleeping, we didn't know what to do with him. He just sat there in the pews staring at the closed casket. We sat in the back, trying to avoid stares from the locals.
I remember that she was always willing to help…
She was from Ohio, so we were the foreigners here. They all knew one thing, even if they didn't know much else, and that was that we were supposed to be hated. When we first came we all walked up to see her one last time. We stared at her high school photo, that wasn't the April we knew. Roger started to pull one of the flowers from the arrangement on her casket; it was then that the mother saw us.
"YOU BASTARD!" she screamed at Roger, "YOU KILLED MY BABY!" He didn't even acknowledge her, staring at the flowers.
"LOOK AT ME YOU SON OF A BITCH! LOOK AT ME!" He didn't.
It was Collins who stepped forward; creating a wall between the two he tried, unsuccessfully, to calm her down, "Ma-am. He didn't kill her, it wasn't his fault. Ma-am. Please." It took her husband to pull her away as she continued screaming profanities at us.
At these times we must trust that God has a reason for all of this…
Maureen squeezed my hand and I looked at her and smiled. God. I love her. I had come to accept her in all of her glory, and even was coming to terms with her wandering eye. The pastor continued for a few more minutes before his closing prayer. We took that as our leave to go.
We must forget regret…
We started the drive back, still in silence. As we crossed the state line Roger spoke, in a slight whisper, "Do you think we should have given them our picture of April?"
Collins turned on his turn signal, "Which one?"
"You know, the one where she is flashing the camera. That was always my favorite." He brought about the first round of laughter in a long time.
She lived for Today…We continued along the highway back to New York City. Our Home.
No Day But Today. Let us Pray.