Chapter Text
may 1991
Mimi lays next to her in bed, listening to this gorgeous woman breathe. She’s asleep. Mimi doesn’t care when she wakes up. (Actually, she should care, because Joanne’s job starts at 8:30 and the clock is rapidly approaching 7:40. Mimi doesn’t want to wake her up though - she thinks she read in a trashy Spanish magazine at the doctor’s last Thursday that waking people up “before their body naturally allows them to rise” isn’t helpful.) So she kisses Joanne’s cheek, whispers how much she loves her en español, and gets up from the bed.
She’s sad to leave the cool white sheets and her beautiful girlfriend. But she wants to make breakfast. They live together - a fact Mimi still can’t get over.
She’s gay and happy. Two words she’s never heard anyone, save herself in the past few weeks, ever use together. And together - she’s dating Joanne! If you told the Mimi of the past that this would ever happen, well, she doesn’t exactly know, but past Mimi wouldn’t believe you. She might spit in your face. She’s never known a truly, all-around happy live.
Mimi sings to herself as she makes eggs in the kitchen. The sizzling stain-free skillet is such a satisfactory sound to listen to en el mañana. The song she’s singing, she’s not sure where it comes from, but she’s heard it before, she knows…
Por qué cantarle así al arco iris y que es lo que hay mas allá?
Aunque la veas
El es transparente
Y nada te va a ocultar
Arms wrapped around her, warm, strong arms, and Joanne rests her head on her girlfriend’s shoulder. “Sauti yako inaonekana nzuri,” Joanne mumbles, still half-asleep. When she’s half-asleep, she mumbles in languages she’s been learning for years. Mimi loves it. She flips the egg with the spatula and it lands with a szzz as she turns to kiss the wonderful woman behind her. “Katika kihispania,” Joanne adds, almost as an afterthought.
Mimi smiles. “Gracias, tu dices siempre mi voz suena hermosa en español.” She kisses Joanne again. They’re using soft voices. And mornings are no time for Ingles.