Don't You Forget About Me (23 page)
Now, at the health clinic, Marie understood what a friend she had in Arthur. Who else would be here with her? Pam? She didn’t even offer. “You should be tested right away,” she had said. Marie was on her own, only this time she couldn’t do it by herself. She’d gotten home from Pam’s close to midnight and called Arthur right away.
“Someone better be dead,” he said when he answered the phone that night, slightly out of breath.
“Why’d you answer?” she asked him later. “That’s what caller ID is all about.”
“I knew if you were calling me that late, it must be unavoidable. I was right,” he said, putting his arm around her. He recognized her cry. She was wailing into the phone, “Pam has AIDS,” over and over again. Arthur was the one person in the world who knew the truth from the beginning. He quickly figured out that if Pam had AIDS, his girlfriend could be in trouble, too. He was a regular at the clinic and knew what she needed to do. And that included taking a strong friend with her.
“So did you and Peter complete the act?” she asked him.
“No, I told him not to take his Viagra…Usually when one call comes in for help, another is right behind it. And I was right, his mother called. It was a bust all around.”
They were interrupted when a woman in a blue scrub outfit called Marie’s number. Arthur pushed her to go, starting her on a journey she didn’t want to take.
“Come with me,” the woman said. Marie followed her through a hallway that had five or more doors leading off of it. She took Marie to the farthest door, which led her to a tiny room.
“Have a seat,” she offered, taking one across from her. “My name is Joanne. I’d like to ask you a few questions, if you don’t mind. It isn’t required to answer to receive the test, do you understand that?” Marie shook her head yes.
“Okay then, first of all, why do you want to have an HIV screening test?” Marie shrugged her shoulders.
How much information should I give?
She’d word her answers carefully.
“I just found out that a man I had been sleeping with for many years gave HIV to another woman. He’s dead now, not of AIDS.” It sounded so trite to her, like she was a run-of-the-mill whore. Maybe there was some truth to it.
“When did the other woman find out about the HIV?” Joanne asked.
“Yesterday,” Marie answered, and then, “she has AIDS.” Joanne wrote it down, but didn’t flinch or make any sign that she was passing judgment.
“I’ll draw some blood, and we send it off to the lab with no identifying marks except your number. No one will know anything but you and the person who runs the test. When the results come back, I’ll call you myself, and we will invite you to come back and get the results, whether they are positive or negative. We don’t give any results
over the telephone. Do you have any questions?” When Marie shook her head no, Joanne smiled and said, “Well, roll up your sleeve!”
“Let’s go to lunch,” Arthur said, looking down at his skinny friend. He had also been through bouts of anorexia with her. “I’ve got a hankering for Middle Eastern food, what do you say?”
“Okay, if we must.” He accepted that as a yes and wasn’t going to argue with it. He was afraid that she would stop eating until the results came in. He wondered what he would do if she was positive. He felt paternalistic toward his friend, even though he had never had a child and wasn’t sure he would know what paternalism was if it hit him in the head. But seeing her suffer was difficult, and keeping her safe was important. When she was screwing her sister’s husband, he used to live in fear he would have to beat the guy up for being such a prick. He almost did once.
It must have been about four or five years earlier, when he got a late-night hysterical call. Marie was pregnant. She had just run a test.
“Don’t tell him! This might be your last chance, you idiot! Just have the baby! You never have to tell your sister whose kid it is, and he is certainly not going to out himself!”
But, evidently, Jack watched Marie’s menstrual cycle carefully, afraid she would purposely try and get pregnant, and when her period was late, he took her to a friend of his and the baby was aborted. It was a horrible experience; she got infected and was later told she might never conceive
again. Now this. He should have killed Jack when he had the chance.
They decided to walk, the restaurant just a few blocks away. Arthur kept up a running dialogue about food, Peter, the latest show at the Lincoln Center. Marie listened and was grateful for the chance to simply be and not have to think or engage. When they arrived, they were seated right away. Arthur ordered for them—eggplant and lamb and rice, glasses of wine, and flaming cheese appetizers. Marie would have to go to work sometime; she said she would be late, and it was almost 11:30.
But was it that important?
She had been working late nightly for the past two weeks, barely acknowledging that the workload had increased exponentially when she became a manager.
“I think I am going to call out sick. Or maybe I shouldn’t. What should I do?” She looked at Arthur beseechingly.
He laughed and pulled her into a bear hug. “Call them and tell them you will be there after lunch.” He dug out his own cell phone and gave it to her.
She did as she was told.
“Now you can relax and get there with plenty of time to catch up this afternoon. I’ll go in to work for a few hours. We’ve been busier lately after five, anyway.”
Their lunch came, and Arthur watched Marie eat, enjoying her food, talking comfortably, and having seemingly forgotten about AIDS. Out of the blue, she started talking about Sandra and the baby.
“That damn baby! I can’t stop thinking about how angry Jack would be. He’d have to tell Pam about this one, wouldn’t he? Would he get away with another aborted
baby?” She shook her head. “I’m guessing mine weren’t the only ones. Ha! I bet there were others.”
“You know you are not too old to have a baby. Even if your test turns out positive, God forbid. Women do it all the time. I’m here for you, sweetheart!” Albert and Marie had conspired when they were young that if neither of them had a partner by the time they were forty, they would have a child together.
“You’re kidding, right? I have a hard time recovering from a heavy meal. How the hell would I survive a pregnancy? No, my friend, this body is shot. Besides, I can’t give up my nightly bottle of wine. It’s not happening, no matter what the results.” Marie never thought she would want a family until Jack died. Now it was too late.
After lunch, they caught the uptown bus together, Marie getting off near her office in Hell’s Kitchen and Arthur going farther uptown. She took her time walking and was revived by the time she got there, ready to work.
A
t 5:00 the next morning, Tom Adams crept from the lower level of Sandra’s apartment, where he had slept on the couch, and let himself out the door to the alley. He’d have to get home to Brooklyn, change clothes, and get back downtown by 7:00. It would be a close call.
After he learned the news that Sandra was HIV positive, all he wanted to do was stay with her and comfort her. He made her dinner, wrapping a kitchen towel around his slim waist for an apron and, with a few fresh vegetables, a package of dry pasta, some parmesan cheese, and a little cream, made a fabulous primavera. They sat next to each other, watched TV in her den, and around midnight, he went up to bed with her. They held each other, kissing and stroking, and finally, he left her there, tucking her in. He told her he wanted to make love to her, but they agreed that it was way too early in their relationship. He insisted that her HIV status had nothing to do with them not doing it right then.
“How long should we wait?” he asked. “When do people do it nowadays? If it isn’t the first date, then how many have to pass until it’s not too soon?”
“Well, it has to be longer than four days!” She was laughing now, too. “We haven’t had a real date yet, have we? I mean, shouldn’t we go to dinner? Or walk in the park? What about a gallery opening?”
Did he even like art?
And as if he had read her mind, he answered, “I love gallery openings! You have to come to Brooklyn to see my apartment. It will give you a greater understanding of who I am as a person.”
“What? You think you know me because you have seen my apartment? Tell me who I am,” she challenged.
He thought about it for a moment, looking around at her spare, comfortable decorating.
“The first time I came here, when we were questioning you about Bill Smith, I liked this place very much. Everything I see I think that you may have placed there for a purpose. There is no frivolous ‘stuff.’ Does that make sense?” He was weighing his words. “But what is here, I get the feeling, is very meaningful to you. The books, the few trinkets, they are important to you. So that tells me that you are thoughtful. Intense. No nonsense. And that you haven’t decorated to impress anyone. Am I correct?”
She was smirking at him. “Yes, I guess you’re right. So what? I already know that you are obsessive compulsively neat, that you like more contemporary decorating, and that you can’t stand knickknacks. And I haven’t seen your apartment yet!” Then Sandra got serious. “Just so you know, Jack was never here. Never once, not even to pick up me. I wouldn’t allow it. As a matter of fact, I have lived here for four years, and I have never had a man here. I just thought of that! Oh my god, what does that make me?” She started laughing hysterically! “Wow, I guess that must make you feel pretty lucky?” She asked it as a question, lifting one eyebrow his way.
“I do feel lucky! Lucky you would even look in my direction,” he said.
“Because I am such a catch,” she said sarcastically. “How is this going to work? I mean, are we ‘seeing’ each other? What are you going to tell your family about someone like me?”
He looked at her a little shocked.
Can’t she see what a great person she is?
“Well, for one thing, if you will have me, I am going to tell my family that the baby is mine.”
Sandra lost her resolve to stay strong and started crying.
“What? What’s this for?” he asked. “I believe what I feel for you already is love, although we aren’t saying that out loud yet. But we don’t have much time to mess around.”
“I’m already five months almost.” She snorted, still crying but trying to control it. Her hormones were messed up, she had recently gotten bad news, and now this wonderful guy was being kind to her. It was almost easier to be treated badly.
Denying the baby’s paternity in any form wasn’t an option, was it? Sorry, Jack
.
“Right, but my family doesn’t know every single thing I do. As a matter of fact, I keep them in the dark as much as possible. For all they know, we have been together since last Christmas.” She looked at him like he was exaggerating. “It’s true! I don’t date much, either. See, we should be able to sleep together because we have been dating for almost ten months.”
“This is so unbelievable! How can the worst day of my life also be the best? Everything is happening so fast. I think we better slow down. It won’t matter if the baby comes and we aren’t ‘public’ yet. Very few people know I am pregnant, and if I can continue to hide it, it will stay that way.”
They talked until almost 1:00 in the morning. He had little sleep, but felt revived and ready to take on the world. He got on the subway at the same place Jack had said his final good-bye to Sandra and went downtown to get his car.
Sandra woke up an hour later, exhausted but happy. She knew he had planned to leave early, but went down to look, just in case. She felt lonely for him when she saw the empty couch, the blankets and sheets folded neatly, a note left on the pillow.
Call when you can
, it read. She took it and put it in her treasure box on top of the dresser down there, the one she had dragged in front of the window. She looked out and saw the sun coming up over the buildings already. It would be another summer day.
L
abor Day weekend was just a week away. Lisa and Brent Smith would return home from school for a short break before fall classes began. Pam woke up on Friday hoping she would have the energy to drop the AIDS bomb on her mother when she returned from Connecticut today. Her sister was bringing Nelda back home, and Pam would tell both of them together. Her sister from Cherry Hill was going to come on Saturday morning and take their mother back home with her. After this was accomplished, she could look forward to her children’s homecoming with some excitement.
Following her usual beauty routine, she bypassed the gym and took a long hike on the beach instead. She put the strap to her hat under her chin to help keep it on her head while she walked. The morning was cool with a breeze from the ocean. The tide was out, and she brought a bag along to hold the glass and shells she might find. She recognized people as she walked.
A young man with two German shepherds, who ran on the beach like they were training for something, would throw a stick, and the two dogs would sprint beyond it, circle back, and one would pick it up, returning it to his owner. The scenario was repeated over and over again, everyone stopping to watch them, laughing together. Their advancement on the beach was slow going. There was also
a chubby, middle-aged man with a metal detector who was on the beach every morning. He arrived in his car at sunrise and combed the beach before most people were awake. Pam didn’t like it, but thought how ridiculous she was being. He had as much right to the beach as anyone. Her neighbors on the north side of the house were a devoted couple, he debonair, she regal looking, even in their beach-strolling attire. Every morning they walked together and always stopped when they saw Pam to inquire about her well-being. She appreciated it but knew that it was a superficial kind of concern, that they would never be there if she really needed them. Conveniently, when Jack died, they were going out of town for a long weekend. That was fine because it left her off the hook. Jack used to say, “A friend in need is a pain in the ass.”
