Short, but hopefully satisfactory. This came to me today during second period. Personally, I think it's a fabulous ending. I hope it satisfies all of you as well. Thank you so much for reading and reviewing as much as you have. I very much appreciate it. Enjoy this final chapter.
A few weeks later, Roger hobbled out into the kitchen, heading for the coffee pot. He leaned heavily on his left leg, shifting part of his weight to his left arm. Opening the cupboard with his right arm, although this was difficult and still slightly painful, his arm weak from disuse, he put in the filter, poured in some beans, and turned the coffee on, so it would start brewing. Then he sat down at the kitchen table to wait and think. It was quiet, and for once, he enjoyed it. It was nice not to have all the Bohemians running around him, drunk or high, for once.
A little while later, the coffee was done, and Mark came out into the kitchen, as if on cue.
"Morning, Roger," he said.
"Morning," Roger replied.
"How's your leg today?" Mark asked.
"It's stiff, but that's OK," Roger said, shrugging, as he poured himself and Mark a cup of coffee. "Isn't my last therapy session today?"
"Yeah," said Mark, "but you're not going to jump right back into touring, you know."
"I know," Roger said, nodding, as he sipped his coffee. "But at least I'm alive, right? That crash could have killed me; somebody up there must have vouched for me."
Mark smiled. "Right," he said. "Come on, let's go. It's already 9:30. Your session starts at 10:30. I'm sure Madeline is looking forward to your last day with her."
"Then we have to go to Mimi's grave again," Roger said. "I have to talk to her one last time, and tell her I'm OK, and that everything's gonna be all right again."
Mark smiled. "We'll be sure to do that," he said, as he helped Roger downstairs. As they approached the door to go outside, they heard Joanne honk, as she arrived. "That's Jo," Mark said. "Let's go, Rog, it's the last day. We're all proud of you, you know."
"I know," said Roger, as he climbed awkwardly into the car. "Hi, Jo."
"Hey, Rog," Joanne said. "Are you ready for today?"
"More than ready, Jo," Roger answered.
"We're proud of you for doing so well," she said, "even though we know it's been really hard for you."
"Well, you said so yourself," Roger said, as they drove to the therapy building, "I can't dwell on Mimi's death. I have to go on without her. I have to live for today."
"Amen to that," Joanne said, squeezing his hand as they went inside.
Roger leaned on Mark and Joanne for support, as he stood in front of Mimi's grave, with a bouquet of flowers in his hand.
"Hi, Mimi," he began, feeling slightly foolish, "it's Roger. I had my final therapy session today. Madeline said I'll be walking just like normal in a couple of weeks, and that if I lift weights, I'll continue to gain strength in my hand, so I can go back to playing guitar. My hand still hurts a little, but not enough to quit playing. I've missed touring a lot, and I can't wait to get back to it. I haven't written a song in so long, I get the words will explode from my hands soon.
"But you know, as much as I miss you, I'm not sad that you're gone anymore. Instead, I'm happy to live to see a new day, like you and Angel taught us to, until I can't anymore."
He pulled a small, round candle out of his pocket, set it on the ground by the headstone, and lit it. He closed his eyes for a moment, and he could almost picture Mimi standing in front of him. Then he opened his eyes and stood up with Mark and Joanne's help.
"I have to go now. We're going home. I've realized something, though; it may sound silly, but I'm going home, changed." He looked down at the headstone. "We'll see each other again someday," he said. "When we do, we'll be whole, there will be no more pain or grief, only happiness, and everything will be OK. Goodbye, my love."
Roger turned around and slowly walked away. As he did so, the candle blew out.
Until next time, lots of love,