Writer's Block: AIDS Awareness
AIDS is an issue that reached very close to me, nearly too close. I was intending to write this story today before seeing this Writer's Block, so here it it is:
In summer of 1985, I was flattered to get the attention of a my older sister's friend, Mike. He graduated from college with her, and was in Marketing for Pillsbury, had a new Black Lincoln Town car (company car) and wore suits to work. My sister told me he was gay, and he did camp it up, at times, with a silly, infectious laugh. But other times could seem totally straight, very intelligent and businesslike. I was surprised and somewhat flattered that he took a liking to me on a long road trip to Springfield, as he drove the U-Haul (he was the only one of us with a credit card to reserve it) for my sister to move there for a job. Mike was a very good-looking, dark-skinned black man, with a small patch of snow-white hair.
We kept in touch by phone for several weeks, and then I came to visit him in Rockford, driving some 75 miles from Waukegan. Other people were there, but they left. It got late and I wound up staying the night at his place. He came on to me, and we kissed and hugged, but nothing more that time. I asked if he had any condoms, and he did not. I'll never forget his response when I suggested he go out to get some. It was, "Oh, no! If you're buying condoms at midnight, everyone will know you need them right away." (This amazed me - who was "everyone"?? There would be no line at that time of the night. It would just be one underpaid drugstore cashier on the night shift. Who cared what s/he thought? They sell all kinds of personal items, from enemas to Depends. Why the shyness?)
AIDS was in the news, big time, and I asked if he had been tested. He told me that he had had "some tests done" and was ok. I assumed that he had been tested for HIV and was negative. I asked how many lovers he'd had and he said seven. At that time, it didn't seem that many.
When I saw him again a few weeks later, we did have sex. I think I brought condoms. But this was before the days of different sized condoms, and to put it plainly, he needed a larger size. This led to breakage. I was scared, but again, figured that he had tested negative. (I did also use a contraceptive foam.) I had had only one sexual experience prior to that and at age 21, was rarin' to go.
Anyway, over that summer, we had a lot of sex. I enjoyed it, he was good at it. I'd head out to his place on spur of the moment, at 10 p.m. to drive 2 hours on a two-lane back road, with no cell phone. But I grew increasingly uneasy about certain things.
Like how he told me he was still seeing men for sex. He had a temper, and got mad at me when I showed up unexpectedly and put a greeting card under his door. His gay friends didn't really approve of me, I think, and certainly were disdainful of their friend trying to be something he was not. Mike called himself "ambisexual", but I think his friends wanted or believed him to be gay. Once I overheard myself, or at least a part of myself, referred to as "fish".
But Mike wanted a child. And his parents were pressuring him to marry me; they were Catholic, from Jamaica. They didn't want Mike to be gay and probably thought a woman could "cure" him. Once I came to their house, as we were trying to kill some time before going to a wedding that was to take place at dawn on the lakefront. (This is a whole 'nother story that I will telll another time) His father interviewed/questioned me about my education and goals. I reeled in horror - I had no intention of marrying Mike, and didn't even want children.
I found out that the seven lovers were only the relationships he'd been in. In fact, he'd had numerous one-night stands, tricks and other casual sex partners - too many to count. I started to feel distinctly uncomfortable.
All of this got to be too much brouhaha for me, so I stopped seeing him in by the end of August. We kept in touch by phone, once in a while. Truth be told, I wanted to make sure he was still alive and well.
Two years later, I started being more worried about AIDS. Again, there were more and more stories hitting the news every night, and rallies and protestors....it was everywhere. The death toll was rising, too, and I heard about women getting it.
By chance, I ran into Mike one evening, on the street. I don't remember how - we didn't plan it. A huge fluke. (Or maybe there's no such thing...) He'd moved to the north side of Chicago on Lunt. As we stood on the sidewalk talking pleasantly, a sudden rainstorm came, causing us to run to his apt. His sister was there, whom I'd met once before. He got a phone call and went in the bedroom to take it. I went over and asked her, in a whisper, if he was healthy. I didn't want to ask him, wasn't sure if I'd get a straight (excuse the pun) answer if I did.
She gave me this stare, and quietly replied, "I think you should let him tell you."
I felt sick. I felt dizzy. I went cold. I think I nearly fell down. He emerged from the bedroom, but I told him I had to go, and raced for the door.
A few weeks later, I got tested in a grey city clinic room. At that time, there were no rapid results like today. It was a three-week wait for the results. As the phlebotomist drew my blood, I wondered how I'd manage to get through the three weeks.
It proved to be as rough as I thought. I developed every symptom of the infection - nausea, night sweats, diarrhea, lack of appetite, coughs, chills, you name it, I had it. I knew that if I was HIV positive, I might not live very long. No drug cocktails back in '87. Just AZT, which reports indicated was not very effective for women. They died quickly.
Maybe I'll make it to 1990, I thought.
[For some reason, the italics button is stuck on.]
So I went back for the results, alone. Walking to the counseling room, wondering if I'd leave feeling like someone else, or like me.
To my relief, I was negative. And due to the length of time since last possible exposure, I didn't have to wait and test again. But I did eventually get tested several more times from then to a few years ago. The last was the rapid saliva test.
And Mike? He moved to Miami several years later, to work as a corporate executive for a large company, and even enrolled in an Executive MBA Program. He did get married and had a child, a daughter.
We didn't keep in touch. So how do I know all this?
I read his obituary in the paper. Maybe I was looking for it, but it was there. He died in August, 1995, of "a lengthy disabling illness." The last line of the obit read, "May your soul finally rest in peace."
I hope so, Mike. I hope so. Sometimes, I can still hear that laugh.
In summer of 1985, I was flattered to get the attention of a my older sister's friend, Mike. He graduated from college with her, and was in Marketing for Pillsbury, had a new Black Lincoln Town car (company car) and wore suits to work. My sister told me he was gay, and he did camp it up, at times, with a silly, infectious laugh. But other times could seem totally straight, very intelligent and businesslike. I was surprised and somewhat flattered that he took a liking to me on a long road trip to Springfield, as he drove the U-Haul (he was the only one of us with a credit card to reserve it) for my sister to move there for a job. Mike was a very good-looking, dark-skinned black man, with a small patch of snow-white hair.
We kept in touch by phone for several weeks, and then I came to visit him in Rockford, driving some 75 miles from Waukegan. Other people were there, but they left. It got late and I wound up staying the night at his place. He came on to me, and we kissed and hugged, but nothing more that time. I asked if he had any condoms, and he did not. I'll never forget his response when I suggested he go out to get some. It was, "Oh, no! If you're buying condoms at midnight, everyone will know you need them right away." (This amazed me - who was "everyone"?? There would be no line at that time of the night. It would just be one underpaid drugstore cashier on the night shift. Who cared what s/he thought? They sell all kinds of personal items, from enemas to Depends. Why the shyness?)
AIDS was in the news, big time, and I asked if he had been tested. He told me that he had had "some tests done" and was ok. I assumed that he had been tested for HIV and was negative. I asked how many lovers he'd had and he said seven. At that time, it didn't seem that many.
When I saw him again a few weeks later, we did have sex. I think I brought condoms. But this was before the days of different sized condoms, and to put it plainly, he needed a larger size. This led to breakage. I was scared, but again, figured that he had tested negative. (I did also use a contraceptive foam.) I had had only one sexual experience prior to that and at age 21, was rarin' to go.
Anyway, over that summer, we had a lot of sex. I enjoyed it, he was good at it. I'd head out to his place on spur of the moment, at 10 p.m. to drive 2 hours on a two-lane back road, with no cell phone. But I grew increasingly uneasy about certain things.
Like how he told me he was still seeing men for sex. He had a temper, and got mad at me when I showed up unexpectedly and put a greeting card under his door. His gay friends didn't really approve of me, I think, and certainly were disdainful of their friend trying to be something he was not. Mike called himself "ambisexual", but I think his friends wanted or believed him to be gay. Once I overheard myself, or at least a part of myself, referred to as "fish".
But Mike wanted a child. And his parents were pressuring him to marry me; they were Catholic, from Jamaica. They didn't want Mike to be gay and probably thought a woman could "cure" him. Once I came to their house, as we were trying to kill some time before going to a wedding that was to take place at dawn on the lakefront. (This is a whole 'nother story that I will telll another time) His father interviewed/questioned me about my education and goals. I reeled in horror - I had no intention of marrying Mike, and didn't even want children.
I found out that the seven lovers were only the relationships he'd been in. In fact, he'd had numerous one-night stands, tricks and other casual sex partners - too many to count. I started to feel distinctly uncomfortable.
All of this got to be too much brouhaha for me, so I stopped seeing him in by the end of August. We kept in touch by phone, once in a while. Truth be told, I wanted to make sure he was still alive and well.
Two years later, I started being more worried about AIDS. Again, there were more and more stories hitting the news every night, and rallies and protestors....it was everywhere. The death toll was rising, too, and I heard about women getting it.
By chance, I ran into Mike one evening, on the street. I don't remember how - we didn't plan it. A huge fluke. (Or maybe there's no such thing...) He'd moved to the north side of Chicago on Lunt. As we stood on the sidewalk talking pleasantly, a sudden rainstorm came, causing us to run to his apt. His sister was there, whom I'd met once before. He got a phone call and went in the bedroom to take it. I went over and asked her, in a whisper, if he was healthy. I didn't want to ask him, wasn't sure if I'd get a straight (excuse the pun) answer if I did.
She gave me this stare, and quietly replied, "I think you should let him tell you."
I felt sick. I felt dizzy. I went cold. I think I nearly fell down. He emerged from the bedroom, but I told him I had to go, and raced for the door.
A few weeks later, I got tested in a grey city clinic room. At that time, there were no rapid results like today. It was a three-week wait for the results. As the phlebotomist drew my blood, I wondered how I'd manage to get through the three weeks.
It proved to be as rough as I thought. I developed every symptom of the infection - nausea, night sweats, diarrhea, lack of appetite, coughs, chills, you name it, I had it. I knew that if I was HIV positive, I might not live very long. No drug cocktails back in '87. Just AZT, which reports indicated was not very effective for women. They died quickly.
Maybe I'll make it to 1990, I thought.
[For some reason, the italics button is stuck on.]
So I went back for the results, alone. Walking to the counseling room, wondering if I'd leave feeling like someone else, or like me.
To my relief, I was negative. And due to the length of time since last possible exposure, I didn't have to wait and test again. But I did eventually get tested several more times from then to a few years ago. The last was the rapid saliva test.
And Mike? He moved to Miami several years later, to work as a corporate executive for a large company, and even enrolled in an Executive MBA Program. He did get married and had a child, a daughter.
We didn't keep in touch. So how do I know all this?
I read his obituary in the paper. Maybe I was looking for it, but it was there. He died in August, 1995, of "a lengthy disabling illness." The last line of the obit read, "May your soul finally rest in peace."
I hope so, Mike. I hope so. Sometimes, I can still hear that laugh.