Author's Note: Back again. Chapter nine. Please read, please review.
----
I have no idea what time Roger and Mark returned to the loft that night, or their condition when they did so. Roger never even mentioned the show. But when I heard Roger's guitar sounding from his bedroom a few days after, I knew Mark had done something right.
It was Thursday. I had shown up on the doorstep on Saturday. Collins had been spending most of his time at Angel's, and Maureen had been spending most of her time with me. She had no where to go, so she had reason to hang around. Mark was always filming, and Roger was always brooding. However, he seemed to be waking up, and I still yearned to understand him. I spent a lot of time admiring Mark, studying him, trying to understand the inner workings of his mind. He knew when to push with Roger, when to lay off. When to reach and when to recede. I, however, would lunge at any sign of anything from Roger, which wasn't the way to go about it.
"He lives to refuse. So if you ask for it, he'll turn away." Mark had told me.
"How do you help someone like that?" I had asked one night, when I was starting to feel frustration creeping in. I had never not been able to reach anyone.
"You have to let him surprise you," Mark had tittered without much thought, gathering a few things. "You have to let him help himself."
I was starting to fall into stride with the family. I realized that Joanne was always working, and that she felt disconnected from us all. I realized that Maureen never felt out of place anywhere, but that she had so much more to her then the bubbly, over-expressing exterior we all fell into. I realized that for Roger, anger was the only emotion he could figure out enough to express something that wasn't anger at all. I realized that Collins didn't seem to need anything, to want anything, or to crave anything – the only person I'd ever met who seemed perfectly content with the things at his fingertips.
I realized that they couldn't be more different if they tried.
I'd be lying if I said I missed home much. Because the truth was, I didn't miss it even before I came to the loft.
I had formed a bond with Maureen that I was particularly overjoyed with. She had found the casting call in her coat pocket, and reluctantly agreed to go.
"Roger has to let go," I told her, "so do you."
Which somehow culminated in me losing feeling in all my limbs at 6 AM on Thursday morning outside a theatre just off Times Square.
"You're actually able to sing after this?" I asked, digging my hands like a clam into my pockets, stamping my feet to regain feeling in them.
"Why wouldn't I?" She asked, her breath hanging in the air like an old coat.
"I don't know," I mumbled. "It doesn't like, freeze your vocal chords or something?"
She threw her head back in shivering laughter. "You're ridiculous."
"No, this is ridiculous!" I exclaimed, splaying out my arms. "How long do we have to stand here?"
She shrugged. "Sometimes an hour or two. Sometimes five."
I gaped incredulously. "Maureen! Five hours?!"
"You…can go back to the loft if you want," she said meekly, the infamous pout making its way onto her face.
Which meant, you're not leaving even if your arms fall off.
I grumbled and huddled into my jacket.
----
It wasn't quite five hours. But it may as well have been.
We finally made it inside the theatre, a thousand girls it seemed lined up in the long corridor. There was heat, which I hadn't felt in five days, which wasn't something that was easy to get used to.
They all had numbers. Which made me look down on the world of theatre then. I looked around at the other prospects. One girl had her hands laced into her boyfriend's, one was mumbling to herself silently, one had her mom on the phone to convince her that she was good enough. So many girls, with so many pasts and impending futures, so many hopes, so many dreams, so many promises that they'd keep trying, so many people to stick it to, so many murmurs of "I can play this part, I was born to play this part".
"1134." A head peeked out of the theatre.
So many girls, so many hearts. And all they were were numbers.
"She has the same dress as me," Maureen hissed.
"Wha?" I snapped back to her.
"Look!" She tried again. "She has the same dress."
She jerked her head in the direction of a girl a few people in front of us who was, in fact, sporting the same dress as Maureen. Not as well, might I add.
Maureen's eyes darted back and forth, and instead of the normal confidence radiating from her, I smelt insecurity.
"Anyone who gets life is insecure," Andrew had once told me. "Because they know it doesn't matter how good they are – there's someone better."
"What if they don't get life?" A much younger, much more naïve Mia had asked him.
He shook his head, like this was the most absurd question he'd ever heard. "Everyone gets life."
I was still trying to figure out if everyone did.
Andrew, get out of my head.
I turned back to Maureen, searching for something to respond with.
"But she doesn't have the same talent." When she looked at me with unsure eyes, I felt like an idiot. The words didn't provide any consolation.
"How do you know?" She asked me.
I shrugged. "I don't."
And then she reached down and grabbed my hand. And I figured that it didn't matter I was such a blundering idiot; someone caring at all was enough.
She leaned into me and whispered into my ear, "You know even less then April."
I smiled, "Thank you."
---
When Maureen bounded out of the room, she dashed towards me and threw me into a huge hug.
"It's been way too long since I did that!" She exclaimed.
"Hug someone?"
"No!" She smacked my arm. "Auditioned on Broadway," she beamed.
"So it went well?" I asked her, as we were strolling out; tagging along just like Mark did.
"Of course," she flipped her hair back. "Like it always does."
So much for insecure Maureen.
----
When Maureen and I called the loft from the same phone booth from across the street, the last person we expected to pick up was who did.
"Collins? What are you doing home?"
"Trying to get rid of me?" He hollered.
"Not yet," Maureen lunged at the phone. "Throw down the key."
Silver sprinkled down from the loft.
"Thank you."
----
"So, how'd it go?" Collins drawled, as we came into the loft.
"Fabulous!" Maureen beamed.
Collins looked to me. "You heard the lady. Fabulous."
"Good to hear," he said, leaning in and wrapping his arms around Maureen. She bounded down the hallway into her old room. I finally took a moment to look around the loft and I saw a few mismatched boxes on the couch.
"Spring cleaning?" I asked Collins, who was sipping from his coffee mug.
"It's December," he informed me.
I shook my head. "Really, what's up?"
"Movin' out, Miss Cordon."
I'd known this was coming. But somehow, it still came as a shock.
"You serious?" I breathed.
"That I am. Moving in with Angel."
"Things are well, I suppose."
He nodded. "Very."
I looked up at him slowly, words falling out how they chose. "Collins, I-"
"Would you mind sticking around, help me box my shit up?" He cut me off.
I dug my hands in my pocket, surprised. "Uh, sure."
"Great." He got back to packing. "Go entertain Maureen for a while, I'll let you know."
"Yeah, okay." I nodded as he traipsed off to his bedroom. Maureen strolled out, looking at me quizzically.
"What?" She asked pointedly.
"Nah." I shook my head. "Forget it."
Maureen left after a while, and I remained with Collins to help him as I had promised. I sat with my legs out on the cold floorboards, masking tape in hand as I taped up his belongings. He continued to gather up what he could, never stopping a moment to even look over at me.
"Collins?" I finally asked him.
No answer. He searched through the same cupboard for the fourth time.
"Collins?"
I tried again. He sighed. "Yeah?"
"Your sudden departure wouldn't have anything to do with a certain argument in the last few days, would it?"
He looked at me, his grin to his ears. "You're sly, girl." He chuckled and continued pawing through the loft.
"I'm serious." I tried again, waiting.
"You're incessant." I nodded.
"Does it or does it not?" I asked again.
He exhaled slowly, lowering himself on the couch. "I have to get out, Mia."
I looked at him in surprise – escaping being the last thing I expected from Collins.
He continued. "I love the boys, but I don't got all the time in the world girl, I really don't. And I can't help Roger live life and live my own too. I got someone, someone who loves me Mia." He reached for my hand. "I don't wanna fall through the cracks."
I nodded slowly. Something inside me said this wasn't running. It was something else entirely.
"If your days were numbered, you'd choose to live them for you, wouldn't you?" He asked me. My head worked its way around the question.
"Yes. But why doesn't Roger fall in rank with you?" He exhaled, pained.
"Roger has fallen in rank with me for years. My oldest friend. But they're right, I can't tell Roger he needs to wake up anymore. He has to himself. And you know that. And Mark knows that. We've always known that. But we love Roger, and that's why you try anyway. And at one point, you have to admit that there are some things you can't do." I looked away and so did he; both knowing without words that even if Mark could bring himself to admit this, he'd never stop trying.
"You're giving up." I'm not even sure why it came out, because I wasn't thinking it. But the small part of me that could only remember what that felt like was finally bringing itself to the surface.
"I'm not. I'm accepting. Because that's what life is." His hand was on my shoulder. "And that's exactly what Roger will realize."
There were so many questions I wanted to ask Collins, so many things I didn't understand. Was it harder to stay then to have to feel them all watch you walk out the door? How long does it take to come to terms, especially when said terms are so unforgiving? What's the measure of time in a dying man's head?
But I didn't ask anything. Instead, I turned away, I let him stand, and I let myself believe the things he'd told me, because that was all I wanted to do.
"One more box," he told me, as if he hadn't just subliminally admitted his fears.
I taped up the last one, watching Collins disappear right in front of my eyes.
"Do the boys know?" I asked quietly.
"No," he admitted. "They're out. I don't know how…"
"I'll tell them."
He looked up in surprise. "You'll tell them?"
"I will."
He tucked a box under his arm. "Mia, I'm not scared."
But he was scared. He was scared they'd think he was running, he was scared they'd think he was weak, he was scared that he was embarking on something with no guarantees, he was scared that he was losing parts of himself at any given moment.
But I just nodded. "I know."
-----------------
Mark had understood.
As soon as he came in from the cold and he saw me sitting solemnly on the couch, he sat besides me.
"Collins is gone."
He looked down at me. "He's with Angel, right?"
I nodded.
"Good."
He got up and went to the kitchen.
"Mark?"
"Yeah?" He asked.
"He's not scared. He wants to be with Angel, because they really have something and he's not afraid of Roger or not being able to handle him or the resentment you may still have because he was always gone and -"
"Mia?" He cut me off.
"Yes?" I took a breath.
"None of that had even crossed my mind."
I sat back. So Mark had understood.
Roger would not be as easy.
He came in after eight, having had dinner with Mimi at the Life Café. He saw Mark and I lounging on the couches and playfully hopped between us.
"So, how long have you two been staring at the wall?" He jabbed Mark in the chest. Mark flinched. Neither of us had the courage to respond, or to tell him. So we stayed silent.
"Alright then," Roger drawled, standing up.
He's walking towards his room.
He's going to see Collins' room.
He's going to see Collins' room empty.
Roger froze in the middle of the hallway.
He glared down at me and Mark. "So you weren't staring at the wall."
"Collins moved in with Angel today," Mark tried to say effortlessly.
"That's convenient."
"What?" Mark shot back.
"Will you be gone tomorrow too, Mark?"
"Roger, what -"
"It's too bad he waited till I was out," Roger went on sardonically, "I would have helped him pack his things."
"Roger," I stepped in.
"Mia, you going too? Here less than a week and can't take the responsibility of supporting me? Because that's what it is guys – I'm just someone you all have to take care of."
Mark stood to take on Roger. "Cut the bullshit." He growled.
"Why don't you all fucking walk out now, and we can save the act alright?"
"Roger, cut it out."
"No Mark, I don't think I will. Because Collins is gone, and that's just one more person I can cross off my list."
"You know, maybe Collins is doing something for him, instead of something for you."
"Well excuse me for not allowing him to do both at once!" Roger snarled. "Dammit." He collapsed on the couch.
His buried his head in his hands beside me and I slowly laid one hand on his shoulder.
"I know you don't want to be this." I whispered.
He didn't answer.
"It's okay, don't say anything. Because you're angry, and all that comes out will be angry. Collins is with Angel because he's dying Roger. And he refuses to do it alone."
"But he can let me do it alone?" Roger mumbled.
Mark shook his head. "It's your choices, Roger. You stay in your room, and you don't talk, and you don't engage. There's a girl downstairs who's just where you are, and Collins is setting an example. Please Roger. How long will it be?"
"Till I'm dead?" Roger spat.
"Till you're alive."
As Mark said this, he looked at me. I could feel so much weight in the room, like there always was. Already so tired of Roger's outbursts, already so tired of going in circles on the same things, already so tired of watching my life be played over again through new people.
"I wish I could hate him." Roger groaned. "If I hate him, I won't hate me."
My hand stayed where it was on his back. "You could stop hating. Collins wants you to accept, Roger. And as long as that takes you, you will eventually come to it. But he knows that no one can get that through to you. Him sticking around isn't going to get you to understand that."
"I understand," he said through his teeth, "but I don't accept."
Mark shook his head. "Then we'll stay." And although we were in the same place we were moments ago, although there was no grand resolution and moment of clarity, although nothing was solved, this seemed sufficient. This seemed enough.
And with that Roger stood and paced to his bedroom.
Mark and I shut our eyes. "When he does accept," I murmured to Mark, "it will be beautiful."
He took my word for it.
----
Friday passed without much exchange, our unspoken longing for Collins filling up the empty spaces in the loft. Saturday was New Year's Eve, and the magic of the city at night barged through us as the hours trickled away. Roger, Mark, Mimi and I spent most of the day outside the loft. Much to our surprise, when we returned we were greeted by a hunk of metal.
"You're shitting me." Roger mumbled.
"What?" I asked him, mid-laugh with Mimi.
"There's a padlock on the door!" Mark hollered.
Sometime after that is when we christened a breaking-back-into-the-building party.
"New Year's rockin' Eve!" Mark's camera glued to his face.
"How long till next year?"
"Three and a half minutes."
Mark, as always, was directing. Roger, Mimi and I stood aimlessly as Mark instructed us through various methods of breaking in. We nodded like we heard him, and as soon as he wandered off all three of us dove for the champagne. The bottle made it to all of our hands and we took a seat on the steps in front of the building.
"You know, I've had a lot of New Year's Eves," I said, wiping the champagne dripping down my chin, "but none of them have been quite like this."
Roger chuckled. "You're not the only one."
Mimi chugged from the bottle and set it besides the three of us. "Three years ago, when my parents found out I wasn't going back to school for the next semester – that was my New Year's Eve like this."
"You're joking." I declared.
She shook her head earnestly. "Spent all night trying to get back in the house. They made me yell up to the second story window that I would go back to school."
"And did you?" Roger asked her.
"Pft, no." The three of us laughed whole-heartedly. "I never kept any of my New Year's Resolutions."
"Me neither." I confided. "Roger?"
"I never made one. I can't even spell resolution."
As our laughter receded, I turned to Mimi to watch her face contort in contemplation.
"You know what?" She declared, jumping up to stand over Roger and I. "I'm giving up my vices – I'm going back."
"Back?"
"Back to school."
"Really?" Roger asked her, still seated.
Mimi shrugged. "Probably not."
"That's my girl." We laughed and he stood up to embrace her.
"Eviction or not -," she said when they broke to arm's length, "I've got you." Roger didn't say anything, but his smile was promising.
"It's gunna be a happy new year." I whispered.
Mimi was still huddled into Roger's chest when Mark staggered back to us.
"Coast is clear!" He heaved, out of breath. His eyes met the bubbling champagne bottle. "You're supposed to be working!" He declared, stomping over to grab the bottle. "That's for midnight."
"Mark, you know once Collins got here he'd down that thing in a millisecond." Mimi nudged him.
"Speaking of which, where are they?" His eyes searched the street. "There isn't much time."
"Maybe they're dressing," Mimi offered. "I mean, what does one wear that's apropos for a party that's also a crime?" She sashayed across the steps and did a mock curtsy and Roger wrapped his arms around her once again as him and I laughed despite Mark's dissatisfaction.
"Chips, anyone?" The four of us whirled around to find Maureen leaning against a lamppost, black leather and all.
I swear I saw Mark drool.
"You can take the girl out of Hicksville, but you can't take the Hicksville out of the girl." He said through his camera lens, catching Maureen as she stuck her tongue out.
"You're a bit underdressed, aren't you?" I jested.
"It's amazing Maureen, you never over do it." Roger joined in. She glared at Roger before turning her attention back to Mark.
"You know Marky, my riot got you on TV and I think I deserve a royalty!"
"Maureen!"
"Be nice you two," Mimi mediated, the champagne a peace offering, "or no god awful champagne."
"Don't mind if I do." The bottle was to Maureen's lips in a moment. "No luck?" She asked as she gulped.
Roger shook his head and dug his hands into his pockets. "Bolted plywood, padlocked with a chain." He rubbed his stubble. "A total dead end."
Maureen scoffed. "Ha, sounds like my ex-girlfriend." Mimi, Mark, Roger and I rolled our eyes in unison as Maureen started one of her famous rants about Joanne's ever-prominent flaws. As she rambled, we skidded off to the door once again.
"How long can she go for?" I whispered to the group once we were out of earshot.
"Eternities," Roger groaned. "I once left the room and she was talking for an hour before she realized I wasn't there."
We chuckled lightly, the strains of Maureen's chattering still reaching us.
"And you know, she can be so pigheaded sometimes I just want to -"
"You wanna what?" Joanne seemed to step out of the darkness, her hands on her hips.
"- absolutely murder my mother, god what a bitch, HELLO POOKIE!" Maureen stumbled. She laced her arms around Joanne's neck.
"Nice cover," Joanne snickered. "Guys," she called to us. "I did a bit of research with my friends at legal aid. Technically, you're squatters – there's hope – but just in case,"
She dangled a 6-foot cord from her wrist. "Rope!" We chorused, catching on.
"Alright, let's see," Mark panned the scene. "We can hoist the line…"
"To the fire escape." Joanne finished for him. Mark nodded, and returned to panning.
"And tie off at –"
"that bench." They declared simultaneously.
Maureen tsked and leant into us. "You know, I think I preferred them hating each other." Mimi and I smiled.
Joanne called to her, "Start hoisting, wench."
Mark, Joanne and Maureen skirted off, and Mimi and I still tittered as we watched them go.
"I think I should be laughing," Roger shrugged, "yet I forget how to begin."
"Roger, how can you forget?" I asked him.
"I'm feeling something," he assured us, his eyes darting from Mimi to me, "but the only thing I've ever done is hide."
Mimi turned to me slowly and we shared a smile.
"Last week," he continued, "I wanted just to disappear. My life was dust." Mimi and I finally broke our gaze.
"And now?" She urged hesitantly.
"And now…" He smiled. "It just may be a happy new year."
"How new?" She asked.
He lifted Mimi off the ground and twirled her. "Brand new." I watched on overjoyed. Mimi was off the ground, but they were both falling.
"Bond – James Bond!"
"Collins!" I called to him. He sauntered over with a blonde Angel on his arm.
"And Pussy Galore – in person!" She hollered.
"Pussy, you came prepared," Mimi giggled, always one to play along.
"Of course," Angel continued, fishing through her bag. "I was a Boy Scout once… and a Brownie. Till some brat got scared."
This was punctuated by Roger, Mimi and my chuckles.
"Aha, Moneypenny! My martini," Collins leant into Mimi.
"Will bad champagne do?"
"It'll have to," Collins grabbed the bottle. "Beggars can't be choosers," he gargled through gulps.
Roger laughed as he said, "That's shaken, not stirred."
"How long we have?" I asked.
"Two minutes." Mimi jumped in.
"Where's everyone else?" Collins asked when he finally parted with the alcohol.
"Playing Spiderman." Roger gestured to Maureen attempting to scale up the building in stilettos.
Angel shook her head and started to work her magic.
"5, 4, 3," we chorused. The padlock snapped. "Open sesame! Happy New Year!"
Slow clapping was heard from the distance.
Benny was sauntering up behind us.
"I see that you've beaten me to the punch."
I glanced around to remember the images on all their faces. Collins stood steadfast and strong with crossed arms, Angel shot dirty looks from the corners of her eyes, Roger sucked on his teeth, Mimi bit her bottom lip in disgust, Joanne restrained her lover who stood with her hands digging into her hipbones, and Mark looked to the ground fingering his camera. I tried to give myself a reason to like Benny.
"How'd you know we'd be here?" Roger stepped forward. Benny waved his cell phone from his jacket pocket.
"I had a hunch." Reason lost. Roger stepped forward and I quickly clutched his forearm.
"You're not mad?" Mark treaded cautiously.
"No." Benny started, circling our entourage. "On the contrary, Mr. Cohen I came by to put an end to all this." He ran his fingers over the rusted padlock. His eyes met ours again. "A shame you went and destroyed the door…"
We all dispersed as he cut through us to address us like we were another mob of homeless people he was clearing from a lot.
"A change of heart, Benny?" Mimi seethed.
"You could say that." He flashed his teeth. "And the credit is all yours. You made a good case."
"What case?" Roger snarled, breaking free of my grip.
"Mimi came to see me and had much to say."
She gaped incredulously. "What?" She shrieked.
"Mark, get this on film."
"Yes Master." He piped up, his camera returning to its home.
"I regret the unlucky circumstances of the past seven days,"
"Circumstance?" Roger scoffed. "Benny, you padlocked our door!"
"Touche," Benny's glare fluttered to Mark at the use of his phrase. "But it's with great pleasure," he added in a noble bow – always one for dramatics, "that I hand you this key."
Angel mocked claps off to the side as Collins rolled his eyes.
"Fuck, it's dead." Mark exclaimed, knocking his camera on its side.
"Reshoot!" Benny demanded.
"Oh I see," Roger grabbed Benny by the sleeve, "this is a photo opportunity."
"Roger," Mimi stepped between them, whispering to Roger to calm him as he seethed.
Maureen stepped up next. "The benevolent God ushers the poor artists back to their flat. Were you planning on taking down the barbed wire from the lot too?"
"Anything but that!" Roger added bitterly over Mimi's shoulder.
"Clearing the lot was a safety concern," he challenged Roger. Then he turned back to us. "We break ground this month, but you're welcome to move back in."
"Yeah, and be crushed to death by a wrecking ball?" Collins snickered. "No thanks."
"And that's why you're here with people you hate, Benny?" Maureen sidled up besides Collins. "Why don't you put your tail between your legs and run back to Muffy and your father-in-law?"
"You know, I'd rather be here – hell, I'd rather be anywhere – then Westport." Benny said, the first sincere statement he'd made all night.
"Spare us, old sport." Roger growled.
"Mimi, how about you use your seductive ways to get Hothead over there to cool it?" Benny chided.
She spun around and dug her fingernails into her hips. "What?"
"Liar!" Roger hollered.
"Why don't you tell them what you wore to my place?" All our eyes fell on Mimi.
"I was on my way to work," she stammered helplessly, then turned back to face Benny head-on.
Benny cupped his hands and pretended to whisper to Roger. "Black leather and lace." A grin slithered its way onto his face as he snaked through us to lean up besides Mark and I. He rubbed his thigh. "My desk is a mess, I think I'm still sore."
"Cause I kicked him and I told him I wasn't his whore!" She snarled through clenched teeth.
"Does your boyfriend know who your last boyfriend was?"
Roger broke through us to Benny and screamed, "I'm not her boyfriend and I sure as hell don't care what she does!" I watched Mimi crumple and Roger stalk off, pushing Collins out of his way.
"People," Angel stepped in, "is this anyway to start a new year? Have compassion, Benny just lost his cat."
"My dog," his eyes met the ground, "but I appreciate that."
"My cat had a fall and I went through hell," Angel offered.
"It's like losing a – how did you know she fell?"
"Champagne!" Collins popped up between them, the bottle in his fingers.
"Don't mind if I do." Benny sighed. "To dogs!" He toasted.
"No Benny, to you." We chorused.
"Let's make a resolution."
Mimi hung her head and allowed Angel to wrap an arm around her thin shoulders. "I'll drink to that."
"Let's always stay friends." Collins added.
"Even though we have some, er, disputes," Joanne continued. We all laughed a bit. Disputes? To say the least.
"This family tree's got deep roots." Maureen raised her glass and we nodded solemnly. I watched flickers of reminiscing appear on all their faces.
"Friendship is thicker then blood," Mark went on.
Roger's hands were still in his pockets, his eyes were still on the ground. "That depends." He roared.
"Depends on trust," Mimi spat.
"Depends on true devotion," Roger countered.
"Depends on love," Joanne soothed as she shoved Mimi towards Roger.
"Depends on not denying emotion," Mark said knowingly, also shoving Roger who shook him off.
"Perhaps," he reasoned.
"It's gunna be a happy new year." Angel whispered to him.
"I guess."
"It's gunna be a happy new year." Maureen assured him, taking his arm.
Roger finally broke into a slight smile. "You're right."
We all promised him, "It's gunna be a happy new year."
Each of us downed our glasses and I watched them start filing in. Roger and Mimi hung back, and I hid in the doorway to catch their exchange.
"I'm sorry," they mumbled at the same time.
Roger shook his head coyly. "First fight."
Mimi breathed a laugh. "First of many." She kissed his cheek and strolled off a bit.
"God willing." I swear I heard him whisper. His eyes never left her wandering figure as she looked around a bit frantically. "Coming?" He called.
"In a minute," she called back with searching eyes. She could still sense Roger so she whirled around. "I'm fine," she assured him, "Go."
He watched her quizzically and then she smiled. It was infectious I suppose, because her grin spread to Roger and he turned back to the door. When he saw me hanging in the doorway he sidestepped to get beside me, but lingered in front of me. I thought he'd say something and I thought I would too, but surprisingly just our shared grin that promised a better day was all we needed.
"Well, well, well," I heard someone croon. I looked back for Roger but he had already disappeared up the stairs. Bewildered, I popped my head out the doorway to see a hunched finger looming over Mimi. In a brief moment, she had become more frail and gaunt-looking.
"It's gunna be a," the figure continued, waving a packet of what to Mimi was white gold, "a happy new year."
She hung her head but clawed for it desperately. Her eyes darted both ways as she slipped some cash into his hand. They were spotlighted by a lamppost, and I tried to picture this act a side-stepping dance, where no one led and they always came back for more. The man chortled and whispered, "There, there." I saw his hand reach around to grab her ass, but Mimi peeled off quickly. Just as I was about to duck into the building, Mimi was at the door. Her throat caught and her eyes widened, and I just watched her take on the characteristics of a deer in headlights. She was about to speak, but I just dropped my head. Slowly, she breathed in and slithered past me. I kept my eyes to the floor as I listened to her clank up the stairwell.
The moment I lifted my head, I took a step out into the night and I watched the man slink back into the darkness of which he came from. The things that happened in that darkness, I had never asked to become a part of. But with Mimi's guilty eyes and her quick footsteps, I knew it wouldn't be as simple as I had once imagined.
"Brand new," Roger had sworn.
"We made a million mistakes. And we'd keep making them if it wasn't for that damn piece of paper." Mimi had told me on Christmas in the moonlight.
That was the moment when I realized there was nothing in this world strong enough to change someone. Not disease, not promise, not love. Your life is something completely different after you learn that.
The wind whistled nightmares in my ears and I shivered as I crossed my arms in the night. Realizing I wasn't meant to be out in the cold, I started back into the loft.
It's gunna be a happy new year ..
----
The loft was a different place after New Year's.
But different took on a whole bunch of forms.
Collins still lived with Angel, but they spent most of their time at the loft anyway. Angel continued to worsen, but the light that radiated from her never dimmed. Collins was offered a big teaching job, but turned it down to stay in New York. I could tell that he was sensing Angel's decline, but had yet to admit. I decided to wait around until he did.
Roger was now living downstairs with Mimi, but the two of them also spent most of their time with us. Their relationship was never sure, but the moments when everything fell into place were beautiful. Mark and I would just lock eyes across the room and share the same joy in seeing Roger happy. He and I still talked, but most of the time there were no flared arguments. Roger seemed to forget he was dying. Or he was at least trying to.
Mimi's health was always unsteady. The only thing constant was her exchanges in the back alley that I'd watch through Roger's old bedroom window. She'd sneak back up the stairs and the only one ever around to here her was me. Sometimes I'd meet her in the hallway. Most of the time, I didn't leave the window.
Joanne and Maureen had their petty arguments a few times a week, but all major catastrophes stayed at bay.
Mark and I lived together, and while the world around us changed we did not. It was mid-January. We pretended time stood still.
"January 17th, 10 PM, Eastern Standard Time. Mark and Mia's second attempt this weekend to wrangle the group together for an outing." Mark narrated, panning the lot as I sat sketching on the couch. "And how's it working for us Mia?"
"It would if Angel and Collins would leave their apartment." I called without looking up.
Mark chuckled. "Touche."
He dropped his camera and plopped down besides me. "Whatcha drawin'?" He cooed.
"Nothing," I yelped, clutching the pad to my chest.
"C'mon Mia, every free waking moment you have your head's buried in that pad. Can't you at least let me see that you're not plotting mass destruction or world abomination?"
"Mark, do you ever show me your films?"
"Tou-"
"Don't even say it," I cut him off. I slipped the pad beneath the couch cushion.
"Seriously Mia, if you're any good – maybe you should try to get a job for the gallery down the street. I know they're looking for some resident -"
"I'm not that good." I assured him.
"How do you know?"
I shook my head. "Just do." I wondered how long I could skid by without working. I had no records, no name, no license but the one from my old life. As far as this New York was concerned, I never existed. Mark looked at me with pained eyes and every time we shared these gazes I wanted to tell him. I wanted to tell him why I was here, why I wasn't here, who I was and who I wasn't, why I couldn't show him my art or why I could never utter my brother's name without a shiver running down my spine. I wanted to tell him why I couldn't tell him any of this, but then he'd turn away and stand up just like he was now.
"Mimi will be up in a minute," He said as he stalked off.
"MIA!" Mark and I shuddered.
"Hi Maureen," I moaned.
"Mia, we're conducting a science experiment." She said bluntly.
"Uhm, what?"
"Hey, nothing illegal in the loft alright?" Mark called from the kitchen.
"You don't pay your rent and you have a wood burning stove," we all turned to the doorway. Mimi stood against the door with arms folded. "How much more illegal could this place be?"
"Haha, are you a stripper or a comedian?" Mark grumbled. "Where's Rockerboy?"
Mimi waved his question off. "Passed out from work."
"Roger and manual labor," Maureen tsked. "Never thought I'd see that."
"It's just until the band starts up again," Mimi said knowingly as she hung up her coat.
"Or until Roger starts up again." Maureen took my arm and led me to the bathroom.
"Mimi!" She called. "You have the goods?"
"Do I ever fail you?" Mimi grinned, sporting a plastic bag from a convenience store.
The two of them dragged me straight into the bathroom despite my protests. In a moment, the faucet was running.
"Maureen, Mimi, really, what's going on?"
Mimi pulled a box from her bag. "We're making you over."
"You're dying my hair orange!" I shrieked, wrenching the box from Mimi's hands.
"It's auburn," Maureen heaved.
"Why?" I screeched.
"You'll see," Maureen singsonged.
"Mimi?" I turned to the beauty helplessly.
"Can't help you on this one."
"So you're letting her do this to me without knowing why?" I whined.
Mimi nodded animatedly.
In a second, my head was dunked beneath the gushing water.
"Maureen really, I don't want -"
"Mia." She stopped me, her voice taking on a serious tone. "Trust me. I have my reasons."
The least I could give them was that.
"How long's the dye last?" I caved.
Maureen grinned. "6 weeks."
I exhaled. "Go ahead." And my head again met the faucet. I felt Maureen and Mimi maneuver around me, screaming over my head on how to work the do-it-yourself dying kit. At one point, I heard Collins and Angel bound into the loft. Finally, my hair was drenched with dye and the room reeked of chemicals.
"Smelt like this when…" Maureen started. Her voice trailed off and I saw Mimi look to her. Maureen just bit her lip and grabbed another lock of my hair.
Soon enough, the two of them were working a blow-dryer around my head, brushing through my hair and using hairspray to create volume. Every time I tried to catch a glimpse in the mirror, Maureen would turn my chin or Mimi would slap my cheek.
"Nice try," she'd taunt. "It's gunna be a surprise."
"I don't do well with surprises," I warned them. But I figured the last 3 weeks had been a surprise, so I just shook my head and let them work their magic.
The moment I felt the bursts of warm air stopped, I snapped my head up. Mimi twirled the cord around her blow-dryer and grinned, while Maureen got gazed at me with a far-off expression on her face.
"What?" I asked her and she broke from her daze.
Her smile could melt ice caps. "Nothing," she promised, "it's nothing." She didn't remove her eyes from me when she called urgently, "Mark! Collins!"
The girls shoved me out the bathroom and Maureen stepped up besides me.
"Guys," her voice was shaky. Angel grinned ecstatically, Collins jaw dropped and Mark gawked.
"Chica, you look incredible!" She squealed.
"Thank you," I smiled. "I haven't seen it yet."
"God Mia," Collins got up and started to pace to me. "Maureen, she -"
"I know." She sighed.
"Maureen," Mark spoke throatily, "when Roger -"
"When Roger what?" All heads turned to the door just in time to see Roger's eyes widen to the size of golf balls.
No one said anything. Mark shuffled his feet and Maureen's eyes darted around the room.
I heard Roger's breath get unsteady and Collins stepped forward to speak up. But before any words could leave his lips, Roger spun around and disappeared through the door as quick as he'd come.
The room started to move again. Collins looked defeated and Mark just shot daggers through his eyes at Maureen.
"Are you out of your mind?" He whispered harshly.
I looked up to Maureen. "What happened?" I asked her, still completely confused. She shook her head with the utmost sympathy and led me back into the bathroom with her hand on my shoulder. I finally saw myself in the mirror.
"My god," I breathed. I moved my nose close enough to the glass that my breath formed condensation.
Before I could ask, Maureen slipped something into my palm. I raised it.
A driver's license.
April Ericson.
My eyes met the picture and then the mirror once again.
The same image stared back at me.
----
Author's Note: Figured I'd stop here, since it's been so long since I've updated. Again, feedback is greatly appreciated as I try to move this story along as best I can. Thank you all!