Cat Scatch: The Story of Mimi Marquez

Chapter Four: Family Ties

I woke up a few hours later to the sound of my phone ringing. I hurried out of bed, swearing when I stubbed my toe. I reached to take the phone off of the hook, but paused when I heard the deeply accented Spanish voice that filled the room when my answering machine picked up.

"Mimi chica, I know you're there. Please. Answer your telephone. It is your mama, Mimi. Mimi, please chica, answer your phone. I have much to say to you, Mimi, please…" I closed my eyes and took a breath, as my shaking hand reached down to answer the phone call that I thought would never come.

"Mama…" I couldn't hide the emotion in my voice.

"Oh, Mimi chica- please come home..." A lump formed in my throat at the pain in my mother's voice. I had waited 4 years for this phone call to come, but this wasn't what I wanted. I wanted mama to tell me that she loves me, to comfort me-embrace me, somehow, not ask-beg me to come home.

"Is there something wrong mama? I asked her, my voice bare of all emotion-I hoped. There had to be a reason behind this phone call. After four years of unanswered letters, Christmas cards and phone calls, why would she suddenly call me out of the blue and try to convince me to come home?

"I miss you Mimi. You are my daughter, I love you very much. It is very difficult for me to be making this phone call. Your father-He...is still mad with you." I lost it at this.

"Mad at me for what? Running away? Dancing? Growing up? Being mature enough to handle life on my on? If anyone should be mad, it should be me! I've been ignored for four years because I like to dance? How is that any kind of love, mama? Tell me, please, because I'm not quite understanding you!" I began to cry, and I didn't bother to keep the emotion out of my voice. I wanted so much just to cry, to let it all out-tell my mom everything about the Cat Scratch Club, about the heroin and other drugs, about Angel, about Roger, about Benny-but most importantly, about the fact that her only daughter is dying from HIV.

I was answered with silence on the other end. "Why mama, why?" I sobbed. I knew that I was being unfair, but at the same time I knew that I deserved answers that I've been forced to wait for-I waited four long years to be able to ask these questions and now that I finally could, no one could tell me the answers.

I could hear my mother struggle with her words for a few moments before she finally answered me.

"Mimi, you have to understand where your father and I are coming from. Dancing is not a logical career, It's full of dead ends. You'll never get a real job."

'What if I told you that I have a real job?" I do, sort of. "I'm making a living dancing, just like I always said I would!" I was almost screaming now.

"But for how long Mimi? Dancing works now because you are young, but what will happen when you get old and are too tired to dance? What will you do then?" Too bad my mother didn't realize that I wouldn't grow old either way…

"I can be a choreographer or something." I shrugged, who cares? I won't get old enough to have to figure it out.

"It doesn't sound like you've thought of it much…"

"Maybe that's because I don't have to!" My hands were shaking so bad that it was hard to hold the phone. This wasn't how I wanted this to turn out…

"What do you mean you don't have to, Mimi chica?" My mama sounded concerned now, something I wasn't expecting. I sobbed as I told her my deepest, darkest secret.

"I'm dying Mama." I would have continued but by now the emotion overcame me. It was silent-I had obviously shocked my mother severely. After a few silent eternities, she finally said something back, her voice weak, and raw with emotion.

"How Mimi? I don't understand. How can you be dying? You are still so young…" I closed my eyes and let tears flow gently down my cheeks. I struggled to answer her yet when the words came, it surprised me at the ease the words slid off of my tongue with.

"I have HIV, mama. AIDS." I heard my mother cry and I cried with her-an phenomenon. We haven't spoken once in four years-and now we were crying together-even though we were separated by thousands of miles.

"Oh Mimi…" She paused, trying to gain a bit of composure. "How did this happen? Are you having sex?" Me? Sex? Never. " Were you raped? Oh baby, I hope you weren't raped!" She was quite hysterical by now, I didn't know what to say-whether I should fess up to using heroin, or whether I should let her think that her little Mimi was still innocent and this it was some dirty old man who gave me the disease, that in reality has been caused by my own stupidity.

I closed my eyes as the truth slipped out. "It's drugs mama. It's from using drugs." I let out my breath that I didn't realize that I had been holding, and waited for the inevitable-this would surely send mama over the edge. I was surprised at the voice I heard from her next. I expected yelling-instead the voice of my mother used was one that I was never accustomed to hear-a broken, hollow voice of defeat.

"Oh baby, come home, please. I can take care of you." I was tempted. I really, really was. But I knew that I couldn't go home-I couldn't go back to the place to where I had lived innocent and carefree. Going back would mean admitting defeat-something Mimi Marquez just didn't do.

"I…I can't mama…I can take care of myself. I promise."

"I wish I could believe you. Mimi, you have AIDS! One who takes care of herself does not get AIDS. One who takes care of herself does not use drugs! After a few minutes, I finally has the guts to say something.

"Mom, I love you. You know that…I made mistakes, one that I'll be forced to live with and die from. Is that not a big enough punishment? Besides, I have friends here that I won't leave, along with a steady job that I absolutely love. If you were dying and had everything you have ever wanted, would you want to drop it and go back to a place where you're not good enough for anyone…not even your own parents?" I said it before I could stop myself. I went to apologize, but then I realized that it was the truth. I never was good enough for them. I came to New York to prove that I was somebody, and now that I had, I wasn't about to let my parents stop me.

"You were always good enough, Mimi! We love you and that is why we pushed you as we did! If we knew what would happen because of it, do you honestly think that we would have pushed you that much? I'm so sorry, baby. I'm sorry!" I heard her sob. "Please, Mimi, just come home. Let me help you." She was begging, but I couldn't let myself give in.

"Sorry isn't good enough anymore, mama. I'm not coming home. Not now. Not ever. And." My voice broke, "until you can accept me for who I am, regardless of what has happened and the mistakes that I have mad, don't call me back."

"Mimi-please! I'm begg.." Click. I hung up the phone. Well, that was a great addition to an already wonderful Christmas. Mama called me back four or five times, after that, I turned off the ringer and curled back up into my ball, when I dozed, until I was eventually woken by a steady stream of Spanish coming from my best friend Angel.