XO, Blake

  “Maybe there’s a mistake,” I finally spoke. “A false positive.”

  “I’ve taken the test three times.” He flung his hands out in despair. His cuticles appeared gnawed. I didn’t notice them earlier. He must’ve bit the hell out of his nails due to stress. “I’ve gone to the school clinic and my family doctor downtown. They’ve all confirmed that I’m…infected.”

  Hoping I could take some of his pain away, I ran over and wrapped him in my arms. I pulled him as close to me as humanly possible.

  Fear. I could smell it coming off him almost as if he’d sprayed on a new cologne. Thor was terrified.

  As we hugged, the tears like a spigot started uncontrollably out of my eyes. I didn’t want him to see I was crying, but my chest felt as if it would burst if I didn’t let them out. Inhaling deeply into my mouth, I couldn’t speak.

  He jerked back, catching sight of my sadness. Frantically, he shook his head. “Don’t you dare fucking cry for me, Blake.”

  Sniveling, I ran forearm under my nose. “You’re going to be fine. There’s medicine. You’ll be undetectable—”

  “Shut up,” he snapped.

  I tried to remain optimistic. “Everything will work out—”

  “Stop saying that! I’m positive. I will forever be labeled a poz queen. From now on, whenever I date a guy, I’ll have to have that talk beforehand. It’s bad enough that we have to be segregated to specifying whether we’re top or bottom, masculine or feminine, out or closeted, but now I’ll have to add poz or neg to the list. The likelihood of me finding Mr. Right or even a Mr. Good Enough is gone. I’m going to be single for the rest of my life. I can forget about having kids, too.”

  “That’s not true and you know it. There are tons of positive guys who lead active and normal lives, Thor.”

  “Oh, really? Name one.”

  “Greg Louganis,” I replied.

  “Okay one. But what about Liberace, Keith Haring, and Freddie Mercury? They all died from AIDS-related illnesses.”

  “You don’t have AIDS. You have HIV. You and I both know there’s difference. If you take your medication, it won’t escalate to that.”

  “People will gossip about me.”

  “Folks have always talked about you, Thor,” I tried to make a joke as I wiped my eyes.

  Thor’s family was the frontrunners of New York City society. Their name was on every fundraiser. They’d made 911 monuments downtown. And had their own wing at the Metropolitan Museum of Art uptown. I know!

  “Seriously, what am I doing to do?”

  “It’s not a death sentence. Stay in school.”

  “No. I can’t. My parents want me out of New York.”

  “You mean they want the HIV to go away.” My mind raced thinking about his possible options. His folks were so upper-crust it was sorta suffocating. They barely accepted Thor for being gay. They’d wanted him to attend Oxford, across the pond, away from New York. And now this…

  “Exactly.”

  “If you think life is going to be hard being HIV positive, try going out into the real world with no college education.”

  Shit. A bachelor’s degree was the new high school diploma. Everyone I knew had argued that graduate school was the new bachelor’s degree. MBA’s were a dime a dozen in this town. And that we all should look into getting our PhD’s. I would be thirty by the time I was done with my education.

  “I can’t. My parents want me to go away for a bit.”

  “What did they say?”

  “Dad won’t talk to me. Mom’s the one who got me the ticket. She said they need time to think.”

  “Fuck them, Thor.” I started to put his clothes back in the closet. “You’re staying in fucking school. This is New York fucking City. There are the best fucking doctors here. You’ll go to your fucking classes and for fucking medical treatment. You’ll go on fucking medication.”

  “I’ve never heard you say the word fuck so many times in my life.”

  “How many?” I curved my lips about to laugh.

  “Seven…I think.” He grinned back at me.

  Seeing him smile gave me hope for him and his sanity. I needed to see that famous Thornton Edwards smile.

  To be honest, I didn’t know what I was talking about. I’d never had a friend who got HIV before. But surely going off to some exotic spa wasn’t the answer. Thor needed to be around the people who loved him.

  “You going to tell the girls?” I asked.

  “No. My parents told me if I tell anyone, they were going to cut me off financially.”

  “Why?”

  “Shame…”

  “But they are the biggest fundraisers in this town. They could easily champion a cure.”

  “Miss Thang, I may be cute as hell, but I sure as fudge am not going to be the poster boy for HIV.”

  “No. I guess not. But I don’t think it’s anything to be ashamed of.”

  He glared at me as if hadn’t a clue in the world as to what I was talking about. Like I said, I didn’t exactly know how to handle this.

  “What did your doctor say?”

  “He gave me some pills to take. Three a day. A blue one, an orange one, and a yellow one.”

  “How long do you take ‘em?”

  “For the rest of my natural life. Doc says as long as I’m on them, I should be fine. But there are no guarantees as to how my body is going to react. I’ve been on them for only a day and I’m already nauseous.”

  “And the flu-like symptoms?”

  “In time, he said the medication would make them go away.”

  “Thor. I hate to ask you this but…do you know who infected you?”

  Since we’d arrived in Manhattan, Thor had been a bit of a party animal. A gangbang here, a threesome there. But I never judged. I’d just assumed he’d always used protection.

  “Nope.” He rolled his eyes. “That’s what’s making me feel worse. I have no idea who I got it from. So whoever he is could easily still be out there infecting others.”

  “Oh, boy…”

  “The doctors said they could tell in time where the strand came from.”

  “How?”

  “If the person who infected me tested positive, they’d show his strand of HIV. It would match mine. New York State has a computer system that identifies everyone who’s been infected.”

  “So your health insurance knows?” I asked, realizing the seriousness of the situation.

  “Yup, my parents know, the doctors, the health insurance company, and the fucking Dean does, too.”

  Oh, Jesus. “Well, this stops at me. I won’t say a word to anyone. Ever.”

  His blue eyes narrowed into slits. “I’d like to believe you.”

  “I know, I tell the girls everything.”

  In spite of the situation, he laughed. “It’s like you Manhattanites share a brain or something.”

  “I’m all they’ve got.”

  “Well, I never thought I’d have something in common with those tabloid girls, but I will say, in, all honesty, you’re all I’ve got, too.”

  I reached for his hand and squeezed it. “I’m here for you. Always.”

  “Promise me you won’t tell anyone.”

  I nodded. “As long as you stay in school. You drop out, I’ll call Page Six and have ‘em run a story on your sex life.”

  “Hardy har har. Very funny.” He stood up from the bed and started to unpack one of the boxes. “I’ll stay in school, but you have to promise me something more than the fact that you’ll keep your mouth shut.”

  I smiled at him. “Of course...”

  “You won’t look at me any differently than you did before.”

  “I promise.” Making the ‘scout’s honor’ sign, I elaborated by crossing my heart and continued, “No judgments here. I won’t look at you and see HIV, just my gay bestie Thor Edwards. The first boy I kissed at Avon Porter. The gay bestie who made growing up a little queer okay. My roommate at college.”

  “I need one more fav
or.”

  I nodded.

  “If I ever get sick—”

  “Don’t talk like that.”

  “Seriously, Blake. My parents can’t be trusted. Look at how they reacted to this.”

  “Give them time…”

  “Just swear to me if I ever get sick, you’ll be at my side. That you’ll take care of me. I don’t want them to send me away.”

  “Of course. Although, now that you’re on that medication, it’s like Teflon for your immune system. You’ll never be sick.” I forced a smile and swallowed that cry I’d had earlier. It was returning.

  He came over to my edge of the bed and sat, burying his head on my lap. “I’m glad you’re home, Blake. I was up all night worried about you.”

  Rocking him back and forth in my arms as he started to sob, I muttered, “You can sleep now. I’m here…I’m right here.”

  After he fell asleep, I crawled into my own twin bed. Classes could wait. Mind numb, I pulled the sheets up to my chest and laid there on my back thinking about my friends.

  I realized, right then and there, that all of life’s choices have repercussions. Some good. Some bad. That whatever I spent the following day doing and the day after that would shape the rest of my life. Taddy might not ever be able to have children again. Thor will always be HIV positive.

  I hadn’t felt so down since the night of the accident…

  We were in the tenth grade. Vive’s boyfriend Sanderloo was trashed. We’d had a fight. He punched me and kept hitting, until I blacked out. When I woke up, Vive had hit him on the back of the head with a shovel, hoping he’d stop.

  He’d died.

  There’d been a black cloud over our group ever since. From Birdie’s penthouse blowing up earlier in the year, to that damn plane crash which almost ripped my face off, to all of us getting roofied. It was as if someone was out for us all….

  Pulling out my gratitude journal from under my pillow, I stared at the pages. Sometimes the passages were completely inverted due to my dyslexia. Funny how looking back on my entries later I can see that, but not when I’m writing it.

  Ever since we’d survived the plane crash, I’d kept my diary. Over the months, I’d written entries on moments in my life when I felt blessed. Each page was addressed: Dear Grace.

  Just then, my cell vibrated with a message from Diego.

  Diego: Thinking about U.

  Me: Sweet. Me 2.

  Diego: Come over 2nite after class.

  Me: K

  As a warm tingle came over me, thinking about Diego, my attention went back to my gratitude journal. Grabbing a pen, I wrote…

  Daer Garce,

  You’re really challenging me this weke to see the good in my life. It’s been rainign bad, horrible things non-stop especialyl for my besties.

  I’m grateful for…

  Lex not getting sick.

  Taddy staying strong.

  Vive for just being Vive.

  Thor staying in shcool.

  Most of all, I’m grateful for Diego. I can’t explain how he makes me feel, but I find myself smiling whenever he’s around.

  Please bring my Manhattanites some sunshine tomorrow. We nede it.

  XO,

  Blake

  Bondage Twink

  “It wasn’t that I didn’t like Blake. Actually, I cared for him more than I’d let on. Shush! Don’t tell him. However my amigo, Diego, claimed him first. And I’m not crossing that line. That’s just how we rolled. Will I live to regret that I didn’t stand in the way at nabbing the blue-eyed devil? Absolutely! But it is what it is.” –Miguel Santana, Mexican native, aspiring artist, and #1 crusher on Blake Morgan III.

  Tie Him Up, Tie Him Down

  Morningside Heights, Manhattan

  I made it to my afternoon marketing class and then had a late lunch with Thor. At times, he seemed to be in a fog. Poor guy, I couldn’t imagine what he was going through. His mood swung from somber to sad. We didn’t talk about his situation again. How could we? America’s darling, TV host, and fellow student Poppy White sat with us…

  And she wouldn’t shut her trap.

  Ugh!

  “I want the scoop on what went down at Glamorama.” Poppy tapped her vampy acrylic nails on the table, hammering away at us for the dirt on the roofie incident. She saw the disaster as her ticket to gaining journalism notoriety.

  Her TV program, The Poppy White Show, which aired on our local channel, was slated to broadcast a roofie segment tomorrow.

  The message should’ve been on how to prevent this from happening to fellow students in the future, but that probably wouldn’t bring in the ratings Poppy desired. Instead, she intended to account for who was there and what had happened to them.

  A suggestion of annoyance hovered in Thor’s light eyes as he rolled them. “You can’t broadcast the names of the kids who were there, Poppy. Besides, your show is about college life. Glamorama isn’t on campus. It’s a nightclub for adults.”

  “Yeah,” I added, realizing I’d been quiet up to that point, which was very hard for me to do. My attention returned to my kale salad. Chewing, I tried not to react.

  See…I’d learned in my Intro to Psychology class the past summer that in stressful moments such as this, it didn’t matter what negative things had occurred in one’s life—the importance should be placed on how one responds to them. Hence, how I reacted to Poppy that day would determine my happiness for the next one.

  In other words, I couldn’t flip my shit.

  Rubbing my temples, my brain felt as if it might explode from the stress of it all. Like in that ‘80’s horror flick Scanners where the dude’s head completely combusts all over a group of people. That’d be me in a few minutes.

  Ka-boom!

  I couldn’t handle one more horrific thing. Not one.

  Ignoring our pleas, she boasted, “Later tonight, my source is giving me the names of the students who were taken to the hospital. I might even get security footage from the club. Just in time for me to be on the air tomorrow.”

  Totally delusional, self-centered as any New Yorker, and already ruthless to get ahead in the media world, Poppy had Dallas-style-big-ass-hair and a larger-than-life personality which matched her heavy spritz of perfume. Geez, Louise. She didn’t need gossip for her show. Oh, no, honey. Just the mere sight of her alone was enough entertainment. The girl could scare a crow.

  “Leave their names out of it,” I gritted through my teeth.

  “How’s Taddy?” Leaning back in the chair, crossing her arms over her ample breasts, Poppy wore a smirk I really felt like bitch-slapping off her face.

  “Fine...” I clenched my mouth tighter.

  “Haven’t seen my favorite redhead, that gorgeous Miss Brill, in class lately.”

  “So. What. Taddy is busy: modeling, jet-setting.” I sounded curt. “She has Playboy in a few weeks. She’s been spending a ton of time at the gym.” That was a total lie, but I did my best to sell it.

  “Don’t give me that monkey dung, Blake.” Her voice grew louder with each word, causing the table of students next to us to stare. “Tell me what you know about the other night.”

  “Nothing…” In hopes she’d finally shut the frick up, I slid my pointer finger over my lips and made the ‘shush’ gesture.

  She snorted an odd-sounding laugh. “Such a lying snot you are.”

  “Love you too, Poppy.” And I almost meant that. I didn’t dislike her. After all, we were friends. Sorta. Kinda. She was much closer to Thor than she was to me that was for sure.

  “I heard from a friend, who heard from someone, who knows a bestie in your clique that—” She paused for dramatic effect, eyeing Thor first, then turned her attention to me “—out of everyone who got roofied, Taddy got the brunt of it.”

  Oh, Lord…

  Trying to decipher if he’d told her what had gone down, all I could do was gape at Thor. In reality, he wouldn’t have shared this kind of bad news. Not that day, anyway. Especially with all he?
??d gone through recently. If anything, he appeared more put out and livid at Poppy than I was, especially when he gave me that look confirming he’d kept his mouth shut.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Hoping my vexation wasn’t evident, I shrugged, trying to appear as if I didn’t know. But I did. Of course I did.

  “What good will it do to release people’s names?” Thor asked, pushing his garden salad to the side and glaring at her.

  “It’ll make the story all the more real. You know…human. Get people watching.”

  The cynicism of this grated my nerves. I couldn’t take it anymore.

  “You’re really that desperate for your TV show to take off this semester, aren’t you?” Sarcasm spouted off Thor’s tongue before I had a chance to say something similar.

  He had the dirt on everyone in school. He knew who was screwing who, who was failing their classes, and who’d done whatever they’d had to do to get accepted into the Ivy Leagues.

  With tuition, plus the cost of housing in Manhattan, not to mention clothing, social money to go out, and food, students had forked out nearly six figures a year to live this Upper West Side academic urban lifestyle.

  Those prices usually came with secrets and consequences. And for whatever reason, Thor Edwards had always seemed privy to the gossip. It was almost magnetic the way it came to him. Vive, too. The both of them could easily put Poppy under.

  And the rumors that week had been that Poppy’s show was going to get cancelled if she didn’t step it up.

  “Ah-huh. The CPD network is eyeing me for syndication.” She ran a hand over her Chanel quilted classic zipper shoulder bag, petting the leather as if it were a poodle.

  “That’s a lie and you know it.” Thor pushed his seat back.

  “I’m going to be the next Oprah Winfrey.”

  “Ha! We’ll see about that.” I couldn’t help but chuckle at her gall. The girl had balls, I’d give her that. Lady-testes, for reals!

  “Doing so at everyone’s expense isn’t the way to get your show to air national, Poppy. Don’t run the names,” Thor demanded. “You think Oprah would pull a stunt like this? I don’t think so, gurl.”

  “Not to mention, you’ll make parents worry,” I added, recalling the conversation I’d had with my mom earlier that morning. The thought of how she’d react to this tore at my insides.