No one will ever see you the way my eyes do
He’s been gazing at me for almost half an hour now. It’s a little unnerving, and sometimes I want to look away. I eventually put down my book and turn my attention to him. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
“I just thought I’d have my whole life to lie in bed and look at you, so I’m getting it while I can.”
“Oh god, don’t talk like that, please.” I set my book on the nightstand.
“Well it’s true,” Robert sniffs.
“No…no it’s not. You need to be an optimistic. The doctor said the new drugs work really well.”
“They won’t,” he says, resting his head against my shoulder, “They didn’t help Chris, they didn’t help Marcus, or Jesse. I haven’t met anyone they did help.”
“You’re biased. We’ve gone to three funerals but no parties right? No one is celebrating it, but lots of people have survived this, you just don’t hear about it.”
“Yeah that’s the problem. If more people heard about this, they’d know to be more careful. I should have been more careful…”
I pull Robert into a hug. “Don’t dwell on the past. What’s done is done. We need to focus on the future.”
“What future?” he huffs.
I bite my lip. “Tomorrow. And the day after. Next month. Your birthday. Then the next month…and the next year. Every day we can be together.”
“Won’t you tire of me, when I’m sick and dying?”
“Jesus Robert, stop talking like that! You need to be optimistic.”
“I don’t want to die,” he says softly, his voice cracking.
I embrace him as tight as I can, as if pushing him tight against my rib cage will suppress my own torrent of emotions hiding just behind a low wall.
“Medical science will do what it can, but If…if the time comes, when the drugs don’t work,” I pause to take a deep breathe, “I will be there for you. I won’t abandon you. Even if it costs my job, I’ll be by your side every second.”
I feel Robert’s body jerk as he starts crying into my shirt. “I don’t want to end up like Chris, wearing a stupid suit, in a hole, covered in dirt!”
I wipe tears from my own eyes, feeling futile in my efforts to soothe him, “Then we’ll celebrate instead. We’ll have a big party, lots of alcohol and food. Go go boys.” I reach for a tissue and blow my nose. I shove a second into his hand so he doesn’t get snot on my shirt.
“Like… a disco?”
“Yes. A disco, or a gay cabaret, whatever you want.”
Robert hiccups. “I’d like that. No suits.”
“No no.”
We rest there for so long I think Robert’s fallen asleep. I reach for my book again but he startles me by speaking.
“I’m scared, Justin.”
“I am too,” I say.
“Do you think I’ll live to see 1987?”
“I think so.”
“But it’s a year away.”
“Be optimistic, Robert. The grim reaper hates optimism.”
“Does it like sex?”
“Well…we don’t know anyone that’s died during sex,” I admit.
He looks up at me with red eyes, “Do you still want to fuck me, although I have AIDS?”
“Yes, yes I do. You’re still my lover, and always will be.”
He kisses my chin, a now rare smile on his face. “I’ll go get the condoms.”
I sigh in relief as he slides off the bed to go get them. Deep down, I’m more terrified than he is. The doctor said although my tests are negative, the virus can turn up months later. We had sex twice before Robert got the diagnosis; it was a “gift” from one of his clients. Still, I dread Robert purposely wanting to infect me so we can die together. I can’t be strong for him if I’m wasting away from it too. Someone needs to see Robert’s memory is remembered. I just hope it will happen when he’s 100 and not 30, but my gut feeling tells me he is going to end up another statistic. My poor, poor baby. It’s just not fair.
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Text is fictional.