3

by Jacob Z. Flores

  “Is Spencer there?”

  “Why in the world would he be here?” she asked him. “It’s five in the morning, and no time for social calls or any calls, for that matter.”

  Justin didn’t believe her. She typically had an abrasive personality but right now she was coarser than fresh sandpaper. “I don’t believe you.”

  Carolyn cackled into the phone. “Well, I don’t give a good hot damn what you believe.”

  This was getting him nowhere. Continuing to verbally spar with Carolyn wasn’t getting him closer to finding Spencer. He needed to change tactics, appeal to her emotional side, if she had one. “We had a fight,” he told her. “He was really upset. I just want to make sure he’s okay. If I could just speak with him—”

  “I already told you,” she interrupted him. “He’s. Not. Here.”

  Justin’s anger got the better of him. “I know he’s there because you’re being even bitchier than usual. Which means you know what’s going on. Now stop being such a fucking cunt and put him on the phone.”

  “Awwww,” she said, mocking him. “You’ve finally grown a pair. You’re usually so damn nice, going out of your way to impress me or Mom and Dad. It never works, you know. Mom and Dad hate you. And me? I’ve only been nice to you for Spencer. When he kicks you to the curb, and it sounds like this one might finally do it, I’ll be happy to never have to see you again.” Over the phone, he heard the flick of Carolyn’s lighter as she lit herself a cigarette. “How’s that for being a fucking cunt?”

  Justin definitely didn’t have time for this. “Thanks for being so helpful.”

  “I would say anytime,” she replied, “but I wouldn’t mean it.”

  Justin ended the call without further response.

  That could’ve gone better, his mother said.

  Ignoring his mother’s assessment of the phone call, Justin thought through the situation.

  Carolyn was a dead end after all. Spencer wasn’t there, he could feel it, but she definitely knew more than she was letting on. Spencer might have called her, but she most likely pissed him off with her judgmental and holier-than-thou attitude.

  Where would you go? his mother asked.

  Justin was at a loss. Having already tried the two obvious answers and failed, he had no clue where Spencer might have gone.

  Listen to my words, she said. Where would you go?

  He thought about her words. If the situation was reversed and Spencer had an affair with someone he knew, the first place he’d go would be to confront the other man.

  “Methodist Hospital,” Justin mumbled to the quiet house. “He went to see Dutch.”

  Immediately, he dashed into the hallway, found his keys, and headed for the garage. Although he didn’t know what he would say when he found Spencer, he knew finding him was the only hope they had to repair what he had destroyed.

  CHAPTER 8

  2000

  FOR a few minutes after Spencer’s revelation of his HIV-positive status, Justin sat in stunned silence, uncertain what to say or do. He needed to say something; anything was better than the awkward quiet that slowly consumed their previous passion.

  “When did you find out you were HIV positive?” Justin asked Spencer. He aimed for a casual tone. He wanted it to sound as if he had no problem with learning Spencer had a dangerous virus coursing through his bloodstream. From the blank look on Spencer’s face, he wasn’t successful.

  Spencer stood up from the couch and reached for his underwear. He pulled them on and then sat back on the couch, sighing heavily. “I don’t do pity,” he announced while he snatched his jeans and belt from the ficus.

  “I’m sorry,” Justin told him. Pity definitely was a far cry from his casual intentions, and he never intended to offend Spencer. Surprise merely got the better of him, strangling and twisting his words.

  No, he knew that was wrong. Surprise merely revealed his genuine emotion, and it was pity. Being HIV positive wasn’t exactly something people hoped for. It was a potentially dangerous virus, and the stigma it carried in society was quite the burden on the individual.

  Justin had only met one other person who was HIV positive, at least that he knew. His name was Ritchie. They’d met at The Bonham about four years ago. They went out on a date a week after they met, and Ritchie told him about his HIV status over dinner. The rest of the night was uncomfortable, to say the least. Justin tried to be nonchalant about it, but the news had bothered him a great deal.

  The only thing he’d thought about during dinner was Ritchie’s condition. It lingered over the evening like a nuclear cloud just after detonation. It reduced the conversation to mindless chitchat, and after dinner, Justin lied that he had an early morning class. He and Ritchie went their separate ways, and he never spoke to him again.

  He saw Ritchie every now and then at the club, but they never acknowledged each other.

  It must have been hard on Ritchie to be so quickly rejected because of his status. Justin had felt ashamed about his treatment of Ritchie before meeting Spencer. Now, it made him feel even worse.

  “Don’t worry about it. It happens all the time,” Spencer said while pulling his shirt down over his body. The quick, jerky motions revealed Spencer’s anger and disappointment. He was almost completely dressed while Justin still squatted, naked, on the couch. He wanted to put clothes on too, but his muscles remained paralyzed.

  “Are you leaving?” he asked Spencer.

  “Well, yeah,” he answered. “Nothing ruins the mood like learning your trick could kill you if you had sex with him.”

  “There are such things as condoms,” Justin responded.

  Spencer stopped dressing with only one sock left to put back on. “True,” he said. “So,” he began, drawing out the “o” for longer than was needed, “why don’t you go get one of those bad boys and slap it on? Or better yet, let me slap it on. I am versatile. I’m not some Nelly bottom.”

  Though Justin understood the resentment, he didn’t appreciate it. He’d never meant to be rude or insensitive. He was simply shocked. It wasn’t every day someone admitted they were HIV positive. “Why are you mad at me?” Justin asked.

  Spencer exhaled, his anger slowly vacating with the air in his lungs. “I’m not,” he admitted. “And I apologize for taking it out on you.” He pulled on his last sock and then slid his feet into his black tennis shoes. “I’m just tired of being rejected. It’s not your problem, really, and I hold no grudge against you.”

  Spencer’s jade eyes lost their sparkle, as if Justin had somehow removed the light from within that set them ablaze. It made him feel awful. “I wasn’t rejecting you,” Justin replied.

  Spencer’s face showed complete surprise. His eyes widened and his eyebrows arched like a McDonald’s sign.

  Justin meant what he said. He wasn’t rejecting Spencer, not the way he did Ritchie. But he wasn’t rejecting him out of pity or out of some misplaced notion to right the wrongs inflicted upon Spencer. His reasons transcended such courtesy and were quite simple.

  When he saw Spencer at the club, there was something about him that drew Justin to him. It was a force he was powerless against. That meant something, and he knew it. It was the universe’s way of telling him Spencer was meant to be in his life.

  Justin never went against such signs.

  “So,” Spencer said, again drawing out the “o,” which Justin found quite charming, “what does that mean?” He sat back on the couch, arms crossed, the universal sign of a defensive posture.

  Justin thought carefully about his words and his tone. He likely only had one chance to get this right. “Well, you mentioned your status,” Justin said. “In the middle of what was going to be a pretty hot experience. I figured we better talk about it, since, you know, you did bring it up.”

  Spencer’s face no longer betrayed his emotions. His anger, along with all the emotions previously displayed, appeared to have been sucked back inside and replaced with indifference. “I had to,” Spencer said. �
�I couldn’t in good conscience sleep with you without you knowing.”

  Justin somehow knew this was only a partial truth. There was more behind Spencer’s revelation than he seemed willing to admit. But calling him on it wouldn’t pull Spencer out from behind his walls. He needed a gentle approach.

  “You could have,” Justin pointed out. “We would’ve eventually gotten to the condoms. I don’t bareback, just so you know.” Justin expected some acknowledgment of his safe-sex practices, but got none. Spencer’s fortified walls allowed no emotions to proceed beyond the constructed barriers. “We could’ve had sex, and you could’ve left guilt-free.”

  “Is that the way you prefer it?” Anger fired from within the barricade in an unanticipated salvo. Justin saw it for what it was, though. Spencer was merely defending himself from further hurt. “Do you prefer your tricks to just cum and go?”

  Justin laughed, and the laughter seemed to take Spencer by surprise. He watched as Spencer visibly wrestled with securing the emotion back behind his confines. “I’m not a prude,” he told Spencer. “I’ve had tricks that have left immediately after, and I was happy for them to just go. Sometimes, all you want is to get off and then get out.”

  Spencer grunted in response, as if Justin had just admitted to being a man slut looking only for no-strings-attached sex.

  “I was kinda hoping this might not be one of those times, though.”

  “Why not?” Spencer asked. His eyes sparkled once before he blinked them back into submission.

  Justin wanted to tell him about the feeling at the club. How he felt magically drawn to him, as if someone had cast a spell that suddenly removed everyone else from the room except the two of them. He wanted to explain that he’d felt an immediate connection to him, a connection he had never felt before, not even with someone he had dated for months.

  But that would be too weird.

  There was only one answer Justin could give that was both honest and not creepy. “It was the kiss.”

  Spencer nodded. He obviously felt it too.

  “It was an amazing kiss, the best one I’ve ever experienced. You don’t just let an awesome kisser get away that easily,” Justin admitted.

  Slowly, the Spencer he had previously met drifted back to the surface. “I do like a good kisser,” he admitted. “There’s nothing worse than a fish mouth or a snake tongue.”

  Justin laughed. “I know exactly what you mean. Those fish-mouth kissers are the worst! Laying there with their mouths open like a fish out of water. It’s pretty gross.”

  “Snake tongues are the ones I can’t stand,” Spencer said, a twinkle returning to his eyes. “Give me a fish mouth any day. Why those guys think darting their tongues in and out of anyone’s mouth like that is sexy is beyond me!”

  Their shared laughter felt good. The previous tension evaporated, and Spencer’s walls crumbled.

  When their laughter finally subsided, Justin felt uncomfortable. He was completely naked while Spencer was completely dressed.

  “I guess I should put some clothes on,” he said while finally standing up.

  “I would rather you didn’t,” Spencer said.

  Justin looked down at Spencer, confused. “Why not?”

  “Do you still want to discuss it?”

  There was no need for Spencer to clarify the pronoun.

  “Only if you do,” Justin said.

  “Sure,” he said. Spencer’s unease returned, but the walls weren’t resurrected. “But talking about it always makes me feel pretty vulnerable. If, you know, we discuss it while you’re naked, you’d be just as vulnerable as me. At least to my insane mind.”

  Spencer attempted a laugh, but his laughter only showed how uncomfortable he now was at the prospect of discussing such a personal topic. Justin sympathized. He hated to be vulnerable. He preferred the upper hand. But this wasn’t about him. This was about Spencer.

  “Naked it is, then,” Justin said while sitting back down on the couch.

  Spencer smiled at Justin. His smile communicated gratitude as well as relief that Justin hadn’t made fun of his request.

  “So,” Spencer began, yet again drawing out the vowel sound, “where do we begin?” He looked nervously around the room.

  “Why don’t we start with my initial question?” Justin asked. “When did you find out you were positive?”

  “Four years ago,” Spencer answered after a moment’s hesitation. “Ironically enough, I was trying to get additional life insurance coverage. My father had been on my back to get more than what I had through work. I hadn’t really thought about life insurance much. You know, I was young, dumb, and full of cum, as they say.”

  Spencer’s nerves rattled him. His speech patterns quickened and his hands moved about wildly, unsure of where they should settle.

  Justin reached out with his right hand and lightly rested it on top of Spencer’s left hand, which had been nervously grasping at the couch fabric. Spencer immediately calmed at his touch.

  “Well, my dad was in the army,” Spencer continued. He held onto Justin’s pinkie finger for the support he needed to get through the story. “A lieutenant colonel. USAA is a good insurance company, according to him. I already had them for auto insurance, so I figured I’d just bite the bullet and get life insurance through them too. I called and set up a time for their nurse or whatever to come over. They had to ask me questions, run some tests, and draw blood.”

  “That’s how you found out?” Justin asked. “Through the insurance company?”

  Spencer nodded. Sadness reflected in his green eyes. “I got a letter from them, telling me they were denying me life insurance and for me to go see my doctor. I called them to ask why, but they wouldn’t tell me. They said it was really important for me to go see my doctor and for him to run blood work. Once they told me that, I knew what it was.”

  For a few minutes, they sat in silence. Spencer needed time to recover, as evidenced by his sweaty brow. Justin also needed time to process. Justin imagined how lonely Spencer must have felt at that moment, not only learning he was sick but finding out without anyone there to comfort him. He must have felt lost in the deepest recesses of space.

  “What happened then?” Justin asked after an appropriate interval of quiet.

  Spencer exhaled, mustering his reserves to proceed with his story. “I went online and found a county-run STD clinic that offered free and anonymous tests. I took the test the next day and the following week I learned I was positive. They sent me to an HIV specialist in the area. He ran some blood work and told me my white blood cell count was one hundred and that my viral load was pretty high.”

  Justin wasn’t an expert on HIV, but as a gay man, he felt it was his duty to have some basic knowledge. With such a low white blood cell count, Spencer was pretty sick at that time. The average person typically had a count of five hundred or more. At the time he found out he was positive, Spencer’s immune system was failing. This meant he was open to opportunistic infections that were life-threatening. He was lucky to still be alive.

  “Is that usual?” Justin wondered. “For someone’s white blood cells to be so low when they first find out?”

  “I don’t know,” Spencer answered. “I guess so, but I’d apparently been sick for about three years.”

  “Three years?” Justin said, unable to believe someone could be sick that long without knowing it.

  “I know. It was hard for me to believe too,” Spencer added. “My previous sexual partners had to be contacted and tested. I was mortified, but the county promised that my information would never be given out. Anyone who was contacted would only be told that they had been intimate with someone who tested HIV positive, and that it would be imperative for them to get tested too.”

  “Did they?”

  “I assume so,” Spencer said. “I never checked on them. I guess that was pretty chickenshit of me, huh?” With his eyes cast downward, Spencer resembled a child seeking forgiveness.

  Justin squeezed
Spencer’s hand reassuringly. “You were going through a lot at that time. You needed to take care of yourself,” he said. “Besides, it’s not like you willingly set out to infect anyone. Someone had infected you, and you had no idea. It was only right for them to know they needed to get checked.”

  Justin’s pardon caused a smile to form on Spencer’s lips in obvious appreciation. He then wondered if Spencer had ever shared this much of his story with anybody else prior to this evening. That, however, was a conversation for another day.

  “Did you ever find out who infected you?”

  Spencer’s cheeks immediately flushed red, as if he were an angry chameleon displaying his fury for all to see. “Yes,” he said. “I did the math. It was my college boyfriend at Rice. Mike Lane. We were together for two years in college. We were pretty serious, at least I thought we were.” His eyes, though aflame with resentment, also looked to be tinted with a grave sadness. “He apparently cheated on me throughout our last year together. Spent a lot of time at the bathhouses from what I’ve heard too. He most likely picked it up there. He loved getting fucked, so I imagine he was offering up his ass to any guy who was walking around in a towel and with a hard-on.”

  “Did you confront him?” Justin asked, his own anger swelling at Spencer’s ex-boyfriend. He found Mike Lane’s actions inexcusable and wanted to seriously hurt the man for wounding Spencer.

  “I went looking for him to do just that,” he told Justin. “But when I called his house, I found out he had died the previous year. His mother didn’t tell me from what, but I think it was pretty obvious.”

  Justin nodded in agreement. He didn’t know what else to do. He couldn’t even imagine the depths of Spencer’s hurt and betrayal. He had spent the majority of his twenties dealing with issues most people went their whole lives without experiencing. For Spencer to still be so full of life, as he’d seen reflected in those beautiful green eyes when they first kissed, drew Justin even closer to him.

  “What about now? How are you doing healthwise?”