Christmas Eve at the Life Café

Welcome to the Life Café, open 24/7, every day of the year. If you’re looking for a place to talk about what matters in life, this is it – poetry, music, philosophy, politics, all good. Religion too, and your sex life. Sometimes even historical debates spark up, or conversations about food. And death. You can talk about death, sometimes even your own. That’s what I do here, I talk. And I read my poetry. Sometimes.

It’s hard to read poetry when you know people will be comparing you to Maureen. They don’t mean anything bad by that, I know. It’s more of how she’s always so good and so energetic and people just love to watch her perform. I don’t think everyone always understands her words, but everyone just loves to watch her perform anyways. My girlfriend loves to watch her perform. I don’t mind. I wish people looked at me that way when I performed, too, but I guess I’m just not as confident. Or maybe I’m not as controversial. It’s hard to be controversial when all you want to do is die. No, seriously, when all you can think about is slitting your veins open, everything you write sounds contrived and made up, as if you were trying to sound interesting instead of actually writing what’s in your head.

I don’t know Maureen very well. I don’t know whether she’s actually suffered. Not that that matters, if what you’re writing is from the heart. And I think she’s genuinely trying to help, anyway; but I sometimes wonder if she can really help people like us, like me. I haven’t had the same opportunity to get on the stage as she has, though, so it’s pointless to try to compare, I guess. I do think she’s inspirational, and a lot of fun, so there’s that. But sometimes it’s difficult to stand there, watching, as everyone jumps and applauds and cheers, when you know it’s never going to be the same with you. Don’t get me wrong, I cheer and jump and applaud, too, but it never really lasts. A few hours after I’ve watched her, I still do want to die. I’ve spoken to my girlfriend about this but she doesn’t think I actually want to die. Don’t hate her, she’s not ignoring me. She’s right, I genuinely don’t want to die. I just think about it all the time, like I can’t stop it. I just do, it’s just there.

Always.

Ever since my ex left me, anyway. I’m not depressed because he left me, though. He can do whatever he wants, as far as I’m concerned. I mean, I don’t exactly want him to die, I’m not that kind of girl; but I kind of think he got what he deserves. He was cheating on me. Constantly. When he found out he’d tested positive, we hadn’t slept together for nearly a month. I was tired of finding things out about him. I narrowly missed contracting the virus, it seems. That made me go into a panic. I was terrified, and to be very honest extremely angry at myself. Why had I stayed so long with him, letting him do that to me? I could have ended up the same.

Liz was there for me. We had been friends for a while, and she’d been trying to get me to accept his wish to be in an open relationship so I could be with her as well. I’m not comfortable with being in an open relationship, but I know she’s poly. And I can tell, she’s into Maureen. And like I said, I don’t mind. I’d rather let her be and see her happy than make her stick with me. I know we can remain friends.

And it’s not like I’m innocent anyway, given that I’ve been in love with Roger for years now. There, I said it. No matter who I’ve been with, I’ve been in love with Roger since I met him at Collins’ birthday jam about three years ago, and that’s not something I’m okay with, either, given the circumstances! My ex threw it in my face, I have to admit, but I never acted on it so why would it matter? I was too slow with Roger. He’d met her by the time I felt ready to make a move. I don’t think he’d noticed me anyway. I’m not that noticeable. Well, that’s part of the pain, though. Where do you think my ex contracted the virus from? Yes, you guessed right. Her.

When she passed away last year, we were all struck by it. It was heavy. I tried to make sure that Roger knew I was here for him, but there was nothing to be done. It’s not like he would have fallen in love with me anyway, nor would I have wanted it to be like that, but I would have at least liked to see him recover his spark. His smile, I miss his smile! Watching him perform was fantastic, even before I ever met him in person, but his smile is what brought me down to my knees when I met him in person. So gentle, so real, so full of sincerity – so instantly showing me that he was so much more than the pretty boy frontman that most people expected him to be.

So, she passed away, and he crumbled. No. She took her own life. She made sure her heart stopped beating before he read her note – they had AIDS.

I was unable to respond at first. I’d known she had been with my ex and I hadn’t said anything. It was all my fault. I did it. I did not deserve to live. I do not deserve to live.

I’m here still though, and Liz took me to Maureen’s protest, and now we’re here at the Life Café, the gang slowly getting back together. It’s Christmas Eve. I’ve made up my mind to tell her to just go for it with Maureen. I know Maureen is poly, that’s why she broke up with Mark. She and Liz would make a great couple anyway. I know it now must sound like I’m just sitting here telling you all about our love lives and who’s been with whom in the group and all, but no, there’s a lot more in our group than this. There’s human rights and virtual reality, eating disorders and Maya Angelou, Ginsberg, The Sex Pistols, just about anything taboo, or Pablo Neruda, too!

In any case, these holidays there’s no denying there’s a lot about our love lives going through our minds. I haven’t seen Collins in months now, I don’t even know if I fit in this group anymore, as I used to do – or as I thought I did, anyway. They all seem affected by what’s outside our control. We all are in our own bubble I suppose. I haven’t seen Roger in months, for that matter, either! I wonder if any of them would notice if I was gone? If I just did it and was gone? I don’t think Roger would notice.

Speaking of Roger, here he comes. He’s walking in with – oh boy! He’s walking in with none other than Mimi Marquez. Now he’s bound to never notice me. Ha! Bound! See what I did there?

I smile, wave and say hello to everyone as if nothing was the matter. These are people I have shared pieces of my soul with anyway, we can all be happy for one another. I notice Liz noticing me staring. I tell her about Maureen and she shakes her head. She loves me, she wants to stay with me. I can’t let her do that, not when I don’t intend to stick around much longer. I will have to convince her, somehow.

Collins comes in, with a new girl – or at least a girl I hadn’t met before. Angel, he introduces her to us, and the Angel (indeed!) twirls in greeting. Her face is familiar. Then it clicks: I’ve seen her around the neighbourhood, helping people out as much as she can, and playing music in the street. I feel so happy for Collins, they seem to really be enjoying themselves, and they seem so happy together! And then my heart sinks. They’re both taking AZT. Several people around the table are, as I guess I should have already known. I don’t have the virus, but I feel I could have prevented some of this pain – somehow. Could I have made a difference? Is it that I am overthinking things?

I look over at Liz and see her smiling at Maureen, and Maureen taking her by the waist. They look lovely together. Probably the two hottest people in the table, happy and smiley and flirty. I’m happy to see that too. I might be able to go in peace. The waiter takes our order and I suddenly feel even more than ever that I don’t want to go. What’s driving me to want to disappear? Am I too naïve? I am self-absorbed, thinking that any of this pain belongs to me?

In the end, aren’t we all in the same boat? Barely making ends meet, together in a 24/7 diner on Christmas Eve, trying to get our art out there but getting nowhere because, let’s face it, we don’t have our very own Gertrude Stein. Are we all in the same boat? Here comes our landlord to remind us that we’re not in the same boat after all. Well, he did work hard to change his life, I guess. No, Mark reminds us, he married a rich lady, that’s how he got his money. Well, he’s got a point, we shouldn’t be happy with living in a neighbourhood where drunks piss on our doorsteps every night, and we’d be much better off if we had a studio we could use to put our art out there. It’s the execution that’s proving tricky, according to Collins. Mark agrees. They’re right, we need to fight the actual reality before we can really get anywhere where everyone is equal and safe.

So Liz seems to have really hit it off with Maureen. I’m happy, I can go now. Maybe it’ll be good, right now, before Christmas. Nope, it’s midnight, it’s already Christmas. I won’t do that to them; I won’t do that to my family. Don’t want to put anyone through such misery.

As I contemplate, in walks the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. I can’t help staring at her poise, her confidence, her gait. She’s gorgeous and I can’t stop myself from following her with my eyes. Then my jaw drops as I see that she’s angrily beelining for Maureen. Oh no. What have I done? I can see the disaster happening in front of my eyes. Have I just ruined someone else now? Have I ruined Liz now, too? I mean, it’s not my fault this time – why can’t people just talk about what their relationships entail and where they’re at? Liz might have been able to decide whether to pursue it or not, but I don’t think she was given the choice. Her name is Joanne, and she’s a lawyer, Marks tells me.

Before I know it, people are talking about having a jam. On Christmas day? The day after? New Year’s, as we’ll all be in fancy costume? How about here, someone asks. Here’s perfect – Roger takes out his guitar. His new song sounds so much like Musetta’s Waltz. I love it, even if everyone else rolls their eyes. Even the waiter comes close to listen. He’s cute.

The music overtakes me. Let me take my mind away from things. Away from death. I’m at the Life Café, open 24/7, the 525,600 minutes of the year.

~*~

Thank you for reading my short story, my ode to RENT! the Musical.

If you'd like to read more, head over to my profile to read all kinds of pieces I've written on various subjects, or click on the link for just my fiction. You can also follow the link to buy my short story collection "Tales from the Rooftop", or my novel "Wideawake".

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