On Monday, I received an e-mail from a dear, old friend. I smiled when I saw her name in my inbox.
Once upon a time, she held my heart in her hands. Such passion!
i had a horrible nightmare… just woke up…
i have a question.. a bit…
are u hiv positive?
i had the test just before meeting you… and by then i didn’t have it…
talk soon bb!
uhhhhhh … Come again?
Very strange days. Everything suddenly is different. Today is another of those days. Today I was tested.
Somebody I held deep affection for seemed to be hiv positive. Such despair. It’s not a death sentence anymore, but it certainly doesn’t simplify things. She is beautiful, still. Still deep inside too.
And me, then. Is it possible? It can’t be possible.
I responded to her message, and walked away to brush my teeth.
Wait. Turn around. Walk back. What? Hiv? No. What? Awwww fuck.
I didn’t think I was positive. I’m not positive. But there it was, all of a sudden, like a piano being lifted into a third story window. Just … hanging there.
I was never really worried. I guess I was a bit worried. It just didn’t seem possible.
What it does is it forces a decision: a) take intense, expensive, miserable-side-effecty drugs for the rest of my life or b) die a horrible, wasting death from AIDS. Easy decision right? Maybe for you.
Now the sun is shining. A beautiful person with tattoos all over <…>’s arms stabbed me in the pinky finger and stole my blood, as we chatted casually about anal fluids and broken condoms. Negative is a beautiful word.
Everything is suddenly different. Little Tommy is playing his first chords on the piano, which is now resting peacefully between an old, oaken bookshelf and a wide window, where the summer sun is shining on young tree-tops, kissing them a vibrant green.
The flowers are in bloom. Negative is a beautiful word.
[it wasn’t her word, though. my beautiful girl. life can be so cruel.]