—Our focus isn’t on how the disease came to be,
but the lives it affects now and the way that society perceives us. There is no
cure, nothing seemingly close on the horizon, so what do we do?
I paused outside Desmond’s door checking my
reflection in the glass. Scrubbing at my
eyes with my free hand, I hoped the long cry I’d had on the way didn’t show.
The hamburger bag I’d been gripping too tightly was a crumpled mess but I
couldn’t loosen my fingers. It was all coming to an end.
No, I couldn’t think about it.
My eyes focused on the chart that hung from his
door. I let my fingers trace the bolded Desmond
Smith Michaels down the edge. An anchor. I needed something to keep me
here. Focused.
The
hospital was hushed as I watched a nurse bustle up the hallway. The wafting smell
of antiseptic and a tang of something sorrowful hovered. A foreshadowing of
immaculate death. The nurse made eye contact, smiling sadly as she passed. They
all knew who I was. Who Desmond was. Knew he was going to die.
I sucked in a quivering breath and tightly
closed my eyes as another wave of paralyzing anguish hit. This time I managed
to hold back the tears.
Get it
together, Aubrey. He’s your best friend not your husband.
My head tilted back as I took another quivering
breath. Now why did I have to remind myself of that? If only things had been
different… Maybe we could have— but they aren’t. This is it. I’d known since his
AZT stopped taking affect; it was going to happen…
It didn’t matter how much I cried he was still
dying.
Before I met him, years before, he’d been a
healthy twenty-one-year-old driving down PCH. A rockslide clipped the car in
front of him. He didn’t stop in time and ended up pinned to the pavement, his motorcycle
and legs crushed by one of the boulders. He almost died. But he fought.
This was before anyone took the threat of HIV
seriously.
The
hospital. They gave him the infected blood. It saved his life and in the end it
would kill him.
When I first met Desmond, I was a kid. A
child that didn’t realize that bad things sometimes happened to good people.
Watching his lecture changed me.
The room
echoed with the sound of anxious teenagers. An impromptu assembly called the
whole school to sit before the open stage. A lone man walked forward and
grabbed the microphone from the stand. His stride was confident and strong. The
entire room was awed by his wide smile and sharp bright blue eyes that scanned
the crowd. One tousle to his black hair and he snatched the microphone. His
eyes came to mine and he spoke.
“My name
is Desmond Smith Michaels and I’m here to talk to you about sex-”
Catcalls
echoed through the audience while the women around me began to squeal and
chatter amongst themselves. He let the talking continue for a second before he
held up his hand.
“Now,
you’re at the age where you guys go out and have fun, right?”
Echoes
and yells erupted around me as the laughter began.
“Great,
that’s great. Your principal informs me that there is a course that you’ve all
taken on safe sex. I’m here to talk to you about one of the diseases that is
ripping through this state. Through your age bracket.”
A hush
fell across the whole crowd. Something about his tone carried a weight. He lost
his winning smile and his face was a mask of seriousness. His eyes swept
through the room as he made deliberate eye contact along the way.
“I am
HIV positive and I have been for the past ten years. I’m here on behalf of the
Michaels Foundation. The purpose of our organization is to spread awareness of
HIV and AIDS, specifically to educate the world about acceptance.”
As he
spoke my eyes began to analyze him again. He looked fine. I didn’t see anything
wrong with his face. Why didn’t he look sick?
I shook myself and looked towards the open
door. He needed me. We needed each other. Another deep breath and I was pushed
myself through the door.
“Thank God. Bri, honey, I was so bored. All
they have is this stupid game on. Is that food?” Des’ voice was hoarse but
strong. He was lounged back on the pillows, dark hair tousled across his face. Desmond’s
blue eyes seemed shadowed but if he was upset he hid it well. The nurses
allowed him to put on some sweats but once the pneumonia began to progress he
was back in the same assless hospital gown.
I tossed the bag to him and checked outside the
door. “Didn’t see that crazy head nurse so if I were you I’d eat, fast.”
Des gave me a huge smile as he shoved his head
in the bag and inhaled. “You are seriously the best best-friend. Ever.” My
heart clenched but I kept the same wide smile on my face as he emptied the bag
on his bed. “Bri, these are plain.” His mouth pinched in disgust.
“I’m willing to give you these, but Lucille
would really kill me if they had all that bullshit on them.” I narrowed my
eyes, “Have you eaten today?”
“Head Nurse Lucille. Always ruining my fun…” He
started to munch on a sandwich and looked up quickly, “Hey, I wonder if she’s
that strict in bed.” Des wiggled his eyebrows and winked with both eyes.
“She has to be good. It is the head position.” A round of laughter lightened
Des’ features until he began to cough uncontrollably. I was rubbing his back as
his heart monitor began to screech.
Lucille came barreling into the room, a look of
disapproval on her tired face. She always managed to look menacing despite her
barely five-foot stature. One look at
her patient and her hands met her hips. Desmond waved her away as he sipped at
a glass of water. Disapproval became a colossal glare of irritation.
Hamburgers, wrapped and unwrapped, had strewn themselves across the bed. Lucille
turned her glower to me and I gave my best innocent expression. It didn’t work.
“Aubrey.” Her voice squeaked when she was
angry. This time was no exception. I bit my lip and forced down my giggles.
“Yeah, Aubrey. How dare you bring me this
stuff? You know I can’t eat it.” Des winked at me as my jaw dropped.
She rounded on Desmond. “Oh, Mr. Michaels, I’ll
get to you.”
His smile disappeared and she looked back to
me.
“He can barely hold down juice and you bring
him burgers.”
“I- I made sure they were plain?” my preplanned
lecture of the nutrition of meat and how it lifted the spirits had managed to
wither and die the second she narrowed her eyes at me.
“And what was that spike in his heart rate?”
Desmond winked at me again and cleared his
throat. “I was talking about how gorgeous your butt looks in those scrubs
today, Lucille.”
“Oh, don’t you smooth talk me, Mr. Michaels.” A
blush crept across her cheeks. “You know better. Do you want to be bent over a
toilet in five minutes?”
He shook his head as she came over and
confiscated the food, shoving them back into the bag. “No, ma’am.”
“You both better behave or she’s gone and you’re
sleeping for the rest of the day, am I understood?” She scowled at us in turn.
“Yes, ma’am,” we chirped together.
I frowned at Des as she walked, hamburgers in
hand, out the door. Plopping down beside the bed I kicked up my feet. One look
at his devious smile and I knew he’d kept a sandwich.
Ten minutes later I was rubbing his back as the
sandwich and whatever juice he drank was hurled into the toilet.
“Idiot,” I mumbled.
“You gave it to me.” He spat into the bowl and
looked up, smile still in place. I handed him a cup of water and he gargled.
“It was worth it,” he squirted the water between his teeth into the sink.
Shaking my head I grabbed under his arms and
helped him get back to his bed.
“You should’ve chewed slower. You inhaled it.”
A surge of anger blindsided me.
Des looked at me and furrowed brows, “Bri?”
With a light shove his butt hit the bed. A
second later his legs followed. After a yank at the sheets I sat back down
grabbing the bedpan.
“Here.” I shoved it towards him.
He grabbed the pan only to put it down and
reach for my hand.
“Aubrey.” His voice was soft. One look at the
sores dotting his face and my eyes filled with tears. “Aubrey, don’t.” My hands
covered my face and I leaned forward and sobs shook from deep within my chest.
His hand met the back of my neck and began
tracing a soothing pattern.
“Do you remember the first time we met?” Des’s
voice sounded far off but I could hear his smile.
“HIV doesn’t kill you. It does kill your
immune system. That essentially leaves your body open to infections and colds.”
Desmond said as he watched the crowd.
Some
people in the first few rows began to start moving around, a few of them stood
and walked towards the back. Desmond continued on, not even flinching at their
actions.
“Contact
with an infected person doesn’t give you HIV. It passes through an exchange of
fluids like blood or semen.”
The numb
shock that had hushed the room turned into a buzz of uneasy whispered
conversation.
“If you
touch me you won’t catch it. If we breathe the same air you’ll remain healthy.
If you run halfway across the room you won’t get infected.”
Hushed
conversations began to dwindle and when it quieted down Desmond spoke again.
“HIV, as
you can see, has a bad reputation. But mostly it’s the stigma it carries. Irresponsibility.
When I first announced my condition how many of you thought that I had had sex
without protection? Don’t be shy.”
Almost
all the hands around me went into the air. Some of my classmates at least had
the forethought to feel guilty about their admissions.
“Wrong.
I was diagnosed with HIV after a blood transfusion. One minute my Harley was
skidding to the ground and the next the doctors were speaking in hushed tones
outside of my hospital room.”
A
cacophony of gasps and whispered profanity hit my ears. I was sitting forward
in my chair. Watching as this man spilled his secrets to a room of kids he
didn’t know.
“Condoms
break. That’s another way. What about sharing needles? If your mind is drugged
out you’re more likely to choose a used needle because they’re a whole lot
easier to come by.”
He
stepped towards the edge of the stage and looked straight back towards the
students who walked away from their seats.
“Life is
full of accidents. Life is full of mistakes. All it takes is one moment, one
misstep, and your life can become something unrecognizable.”
His hand
went into his pocket as he walked around deep in thought. The room was silent.
All of us were taking in his words. For a few moments we became older. Became
vessels for his message.
“HIV may
not kill but it’s a death sentence. There is no cure. People who are positive
are living with a cloud of uncertainty over their heads. They replay their
decisions over and over a million times thinking of ways they could have
changed things. Not only are we judging ourselves, we’re being judged. Society
beats us down just as much as we beat ourselves down.”
Desmond
stepped down from the stage and began to pace in front of us.
“Why
can’t we just learn to accept this disease?”
I felt
an outpouring of emotion hit as his eyes swept the crowd once more. Raw passion
laced his words. This was what he really believed in. In that moment something
inside of me changed.
“You
walked up to me with your little notebook and asked if you could interview me. You
looked so damn pure. A part of me didn’t want to spoil that innocence, you
know? Sometimes it’s best to stay naïve.” His hand moved into my hair. “But I
sat down with you and told you everything. After, do you remember what you said
to me? You looked up at me and asked me ‘What can I do?’”
I sniffled and grasped for his hand, “It’s unfair,
Des. There has to be more. Something. Anything.”
“Bri, I’ve had fifteen years to prepare for
this. That’s longer than—”
“This wasn’t your fault,” I sobbed.
“It wasn’t. Haven’t we spent the last six years
telling the world that?”
“I won’t accept this. I won’t.” I shook my head fiercely. His hands grabbed as he
looked at into my eyes, deeper than he ever had.
“Aubrey. I’m thirty-six years old. I’ve lived my
life with no regrets. Part of that is because of you.” His fingers began a
light massage of my cheeks as they wiped at tears. He took a deep breath and
leaned his forehead against mine.
“I need you to know that— I- I love you Aubrey.
More than I ever thought I was capable. You’ve grow into a fantastic woman. A
woman that fights for what she believes in. Honey, you are everything I ever
needed.”
Sobs shook me while my heart tripped over
itself beating hard against my chest and in my ears. I didn’t care about tears
or where we were. I wanted to be near him, feel his skin on mine. Even if that
was just a soft touch. The smooth feeling of his skin underneath my fingers. I
wanted to hold him forever. I wanted to keep him here. With me.
“Des. I love you. So much,” I barely managed
the words through my sobs. His face changed. The smile lit his eyes and brought
color back to his cheeks. His brilliant smile brightened and banished back the
despair that had been hovering between us.
“I’m glad I’m not alone in that one, Sweets.” My
lips widened into a watery smile as my nose brushed his.
“Desmond, there’s so much I wish that I had
done differently. We could have—” His finger hit my lips as he shook his head,
his eyes looking to mine.
“But we didn’t and don’t you damn well spend
the rest of your life dwelling on it.”
He kissed me. My heart swelled with bittersweet
emotions. I felt my cheeks heat. His hand caressed my face while the other held
me close, tangling in my mess of curls.
I had never felt such a mixture of bliss,
freedom, and dread before. I was so confused and emotionally drained but the
one thing that I knew was that I never wanted to let him go.
“I’m not going to let you go,” the words were a
whisper against his lips.
He looked into my eyes and I could see the
love, sadness and grief in his tears.
“You’ll be with me. Always. That’s a promise.”
He drew my hands up and kissed at my palms. One tug of my hands and I leaned up
again fitting my lips against his.
Des scooted back and I climbed beside him. He
gave me a striking grin as he pulled me into his arms. It was the same smile he
gave that little fifteen-year-old girl. The same honesty that made her join his
cause.
“We aren’t pariahs,” I whispered softly to him.
“We are the change.”
“We were, weren’t we?” Desmond whispered back
and gripped me tighter.
Nothing existed but us. Our own little forever.
****
I was awake when his heart stopped. Stoic tears
fell as they tried to bring him back, but he was gone. It happened so fast. He
was holding my hand and then he was gone. When they announced his time of death
a wave of grief nearly forced me to my knees. I staggered forward and grabbed
Des’s hand holding it to my face as I wailed. I was empty. Hours before everything
had been in place. That was gone. It left with Des’s last heartbeat.
Part of me died with Desmond. I was okay with
that. I told myself that he needed a piece of me. He promised I’d always be
with him. And I was okay with him having it.
****
The next few days were a blur of emptiness and
distractions. I managed to get it all in order. The funeral. The Michaels
Foundation succession. The press releases.
When I finally managed to take those first
steps toward the building doors, I ran back down and threw up my breakfast.
After the heaving stopped I wiped at my mouth and turned around. I grabbed an Altoid
from my purse and let it sting my tongue. Once it dissolved I straightened my
spine and climbed the stairs. The room was filled. Press cameras lined up the
back and a video of Desmond speaking was playing on a screen.
“Our focus isn’t on how the disease came to be,
but the lives it affects now and the way that society perceives us. There is no
cure, nothing seemingly close on the horizon… So what do we do?” He smiled as
he walked across the stage, the camera panned across a captivated audience. I
saw myself next to the crowd. A lone tear had fallen down my cheek as I spoke
into a bulky headset. That was it. That was the moment I fell for him.
“We are not pariahs, merely instruments of
change. A change society needs to recognize. It’s time to bring this issue to
light, if not for us then for our loved ones. We can change the world. My
foundation will change the face of HIV, even if it’s one teenager, one
twenty-something, one adult at a time. That’s a promise.”
Tears began to fall as I glanced around the
room. We had. All of these people had come to mourn a man that demanded equal
treatment. Cameras were all trained on the mourners. People were standing in
the back and alongside the aisles. Lives that Desmond touched were in this
room. Watching at home. Watching around the world.
