Acceptance

—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.