I moved to place a comforting hand on Elyse’s shoulder, but just then there was a loud crash down the hall. My heart stuttered when I saw who had made the noise. Evan was there, his face pale, hastily collecting the sack of prop swords that he had dropped.
“I…uh, sorry,” he muttered.
“Evan…I…” I didn’t know what to say. How much had he heard?
But before I could form actual words, he turned and ran back in the direction he’d come.
I stood there frozen for a short moment, putting everything together.
Evan had heard me say I had sex with Ty. He was the only person in the school who knew about my HIV. He was scared to even go near me. And now, for all he knew, I’d given it to Ty.
I turned back to Elyse and Ty. “You guys figure out the rest. I gotta go.”
I had to find Evan before he said anything to anyone.
32
The Sword of Damocles
I caught up with him backstage, where he was steadfastly laying out the swords on the prop table.
“Evan?” I said softly.
He flinched at the sound of my voice. “I don’t want to talk about it, Lucy,” he said, not looking up.
“Just let me explain, please. It’s not what you think,” I pleaded.
His hands froze. “You didn’t have sex with him?”
“That’s…not what I meant. I just—”
He looked at me then, his eyes scorching. “Then it is what I think. Like I said, I don’t want to talk about it.” He brushed past me and walked quickly away.
• • •
I was in a panic. Evan was obviously freaked out by what he thought he knew, and he wouldn’t let me get close enough to explain that Ty and I had used protection and that there wasn’t anything to worry about. Every time I tried to bring it up backstage during the dress rehearsal, either there wasn’t enough privacy or he would pretend to be terribly busy doing some mundane prop or costume thing.
Before I knew it, it was time for our fight.
I did a few stretches to loosen up, adjusted my corset, and entered the scene. But I quickly became more interested in Evan’s lines than my own.
I’d never seen him act like this. He was so…intense.
“Romeo,” he seethed at Ty like a man out for murder, “the love I bear thee can afford no better term than this: thou art a villain.”
“Tybalt,” Ty responded unsurely, apparently as surprised at Evan’s sudden passion as I was, “the reason that I have to love thee doth much excuse the appertaining rage to such a greeting. Villain am I none. Therefore farewell. I see thou knowest me not.”
“Boy, this shall not excuse the injuries that thou hast done me,” Evan shouted back in his face. “Therefore turn and draw!”
What was going on here? It seemed like Evan was using his lines to act out some sort of real-life resentment against Ty. But that didn’t make any sense. It was me he had a problem with, not Ty. In his mind, Ty was the victim, not the villain.
Our fight scene began, and immediately I noticed a change. We should have been rehearsing in costumes all along if that was the cure for Evan’s hang-ups. He was no longer hesitant. We fell into sync from the very moment our swords collided. Our eyes locked, and as we jousted and tumbled across the stage, it felt almost like therapy, like we were finally liberating ourselves of all our unaired baggage. Our respective inner turmoils manifested themselves through our characters’ rivalry.
The fight was everything it was supposed to be—fluid and freeing, angry and beautiful.
It was strange, considering the violent nature of the moment, but as Evan and I fought, I felt a warmth inside that grew larger and hotter the deeper his eyes blazed into mine. My brain didn’t understand, but my body seemed to know that, whatever was happening right now, it was good.
But then I was accosted by a tidal wave of dizziness. Out of nowhere, the world blurred and tilted, and I instantly knew it was from the pills. But I couldn’t do anything about it right then. It’s an unspoken rule of theater that you don’t interrupt a dress rehearsal unless you absolutely have to. Besides, I could handle it. I was stumbling and struggling to remain upright, my focus on Evan lost, but I forced myself to keep up with the fight choreography as best I could. Ty was already speaking his next lines, pleading our characters to stop our battle, so all I had to do was get fake-injured, and I could collapse onto the stage, in character, and wait for the dizzy spell to subside.
The blocking of the moment was simple: I was supposed to face sideways, so that when Evan jabbed the empty space next to me it would look to the audience like I was being stabbed. Easy.
But my balance faltered again. On cue, Evan thrust his sword out at me, but we were out of sync now—and instead of slicing the air, he slashed it across my bare upper arm.
Everyone on stage stopped dead in their tracks. I didn’t feel the cut in my arm, but I knew it was there. Adrenaline made sure that I had no sensation of anything except my legs turning to jelly and the crash of my butt against the wooden stage floor. People were shouting, and the floor pulsed as Andre pounded up the stage steps.
At last, the dizziness retreated, and I slowly turned my head and looked at the cut. It was more of a gaping gash, sliding up from just above my elbow to just under my shoulder. Blood was everywhere, streaming down my arm in bright red ribbons.
I turned back to find the world had devolved into chaos. Elyse had fainted, and Ty was tending to her. Max and Courtney were running toward me, and Andre was motionless, midway between me and Elyse, as if he didn’t know who to take care of first. But it was Evan that I was zeroed in on. He leapt over Elyse and cut off Max and Courtney.
He threw himself on top of me, knocking me backward, and remained there in a protective stance as he drew the sash from around his waist and tied it tightly around my arm.
“I’ll call for an ambulance!” Max yelled.
“No!” Evan shouted back firmly, holding up a palm. “Don’t call anyone!”
I stared in terror at Evan’s hands. They were covered in my blood.
“Evan,” I gasped. “Your hands.”
“Shhhh,” he whispered, and held up a red-stained finger.
“What are you talking about?” Max yelled, having reached us now. “I’m calling 911. She needs stitches!”
“I’ll take her to the hospital myself,” Evan insisted, picking me up. He brought me closer to Max and Courtney and spoke under his breath, so that only the four of us could hear. “Don’t let anyone near that,” he said, nodding at the puddle of blood on the floor. “Clean it up yourself. Use bleach, make sure you wear gloves, and throw everything away when you’re done. Understand?”
Max and Courtney nodded, speechless.
I cradled my arms around Evan’s neck as he carried me toward the exit.
“I’m so sorry, Lucy,” he whispered, as we left the bloody scene behind.
33
Think of Me
Thirty-two stitches and a prescription for Tylenol with codeine later, I was discharged from the emergency room.
“I still don’t understand how this happened. Don’t you use fake weapons on stage?” Dad said when he and I met up with Andre and Evan in the waiting room. Papa was at home, on Lisa duty. He was following through with his promise to never leave her alone for the next three months, and it was already driving her crazy. He’d even hired someone to stay with her during the day and canceled the movie channels just to piss her off.
“Yes, of course we do,” Andre said, glaring at me and Evan. “Where did you even get those swords?”
“In the basement,” I mumbled.
Andre’s eyebrows pulled together and he thought for a moment. “Were they in a glass case?”
I nodded.
“Dammit, Lucy, those were for display only. They’re antiques from the RenFaire museum. You should have checked with me.” He turned to my dad. “If I had known Lucy and Evan weren’t abiding by the rules, I certainly would have p
ut a stop to it.”
“We’re sorry,” I said, trying to make amends so we didn’t have to keep talking about this. “Aren’t we sorry, Evan?”
Evan just nodded. He was staring at my bandaged arm.
“What did the doctors say? Are you still going to be able to be in the show?” Andre was a worried wreck. I felt for the guy—just when the fight scene was finally working, this had to happen.
“The play really does seem to be cursed, doesn’t it?” I said, a dopey grin on my face. The painkillers were making me silly. “Just imagine if we’d done Macbeth.”
“Lucy, please don’t talk about theater curses. What are you trying to do, jinx us?” Andre shuddered. “Now, can you be in the show or not?”
“Yes, Andre, I can still be in the show.”
“Oh, thank god,” he breathed, and gave me a giant hug, being careful of my injured arm.
“All right, let’s go home. I’ve had enough of hospitals to last me awhile,” Dad said, leading us toward the exit.
“Um, actually, I think I’m going to ride home with Evan. If that’s okay with him,” I added.
“Yeah, no problem,” Evan agreed after a brief hesitation. It was no use avoiding me anymore, and we both knew it.
Dad looked from me to Evan and back again. “I suppose that’s okay,” he said. “But come straight home, all right? We have some things to talk about.”
“I will.”
He gave me a big squeeze. “See you at home, honey.”
• • •
“Are you okay?” Evan asked the moment we were alone.
I nodded. “I’ll be fine. Probably gonna have a nasty scar, but otherwise I’m okay.”
“I am so sorry. I can’t believe I did that. I don’t know what happened.”
“It wasn’t your fault, Evan. Honestly. Don’t beat yourself up about it.”
“Lucy, I was the one holding the sword. I don’t know who else’s fault it would have been.”
I smiled. “Well, you more than made up for it. Thanks for bringing me to the hospital.”
“I just thought that if an ambulance came you would have had to tell them about the HIV, and I know you don’t want anyone to know,” he said quietly, looking down at his lap.
He was right. When I got to the emergency room, one of the first things the nurses asked me was if I had any allergies to medications or major health issues. I nervously told them about my HIV status, and they barely even blinked. But if I’d had to disclose that information to EMTs with all my castmates standing around and watching, I don’t know what I would have done. Evan had saved me.
I studied him closely. He seemed like he meant what he said. And he’d put himself in danger in order to protect my secret. To think that just a few hours ago I was worried about him telling people…
“You shouldn’t have touched my blood,” I whispered, my stomach still tied up in knots about that.
“I know. But I wasn’t thinking. I just wanted to help you,” he admitted.
“Do you have any cuts on your hands?” Please say no, I added silently.
Evan held up his hands for me to see. “Nope. Perfectly intact.”
I breathed a sigh of relief. “Good. But maybe…I think you should probably still get tested in a month or so, just in case.” It pained me to even think the words, let alone say them. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if something happened to Evan because of me.
“Yeah, okay,” Evan said.
We sat there, letting the seriousness of the situation sizzle and pop in the contained atmosphere. Why was it that all of Evan’s and my most important conversations took place in a parked car?
“So I think Max and Courtney probably know something’s up,” he said, finally breaking the silence. “I’m really sorry. I know you didn’t want them to know anything. I was just trying to think on my feet and I thought them knowing would be better than Elyse…or Ty.”
I shook my head reassuringly. “No, you did the right thing. Thank you.” Then his reluctance to say Ty’s name registered in my brain. “About what you overheard in the hallway today…”
Evan looked away. “It’s none of my business.”
“No, it’s okay. I know you’re freaked out about it. But you should know that I didn’t put Ty at risk. I was really careful and we used a cond—”
“Lucy, please. I don’t need the details,” he cut me off.
“Sorry. I just want you to understand that you don’t have to worry about Ty.”
“Lucy, I couldn’t care less about Ty.”
I blinked. “But you were so upset…”
He looked me directly in the eye. “I was upset because you were with someone else, not because of Ty’s health.”
Wait. What?
I stared at him, my heartbeat picking up speed.
“Is that…why you were shouting in Ty’s face during rehearsal?” I said slowly, piecing it all together.
“You caught that?” He looked sheepish.
“I think everyone caught that.”
“Oh. Well, yeah, I hate that guy.”
“But you don’t like me anymore!” I cried. “You won’t even look at me half the time!”
“Lucy, I’m in love with you,” Evan said, embarrassed. “I’m always looking at you. I’m just good at hiding it, I guess.”
I gaped at him.
He looked down. “I’m so sorry about the way I treated you. I was just…scared.” The way he said it, it was like he couldn’t believe he was even admitting it.
“But you’re…not scared anymore?” I nudged.
He sighed. “I still am. But I’ve done a lot of reading, and I think I understand it all a little better now.” He took my hand.
As I considered our entwined fingers, Evan’s thumb stroking the back of my hand, I thought back to the last time I’d tried to touch him, the last time we were in a parked car together. It was only five weeks ago, but it seemed so much longer. So much had happened since then; things were different now. And, judging from the way Evan’s warm skin felt against mine, those things weren’t all bad.
“But I was a total jerk to you, and I get it if you don’t feel the same way about me. Or if you’re still into Ty or whatever.”
“I’m definitely not still into Ty.”
Evan’s eyes lit up. “Really?”
“Really.” But then a searing shot of pain coursed through my injured arm, reminding me that things still weren’t exactly simple. I exhaled. “But I don’t know, Evan…”
His thumb stopped moving. “You don’t know what?”
“I don’t know if you and I could ever really work. It’s complicated.”
“Because of the HIV?”
“Well, yeah. That’s the big thing, obviously. I’m in for a lifetime of health problems and medication side effects and doctors’ appointments and group meetings. It’s a lot to deal with. But also because you really hurt me, and honestly, I’m still working through that. And I know you said you’ve done a lot of research and all that, but I can’t help but worry that you’ll always be a little skittish around me.”
Evan slowly released my hand, nodding. “Okay. I understand.” He started the car and began driving in the direction of my house.
I was a mess inside. I wanted to be with him. I wanted to kiss him and have him hold me and be loved by someone as good as him. But what I said was the truth, and I had to take care of me now.
“But thank you,” I said after a while. “For everything you did today. I mean it—I’ll never forget it.”
He kept his eyes on the road and didn’t respond.
Before long we were pulling up my driveway.
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” I said, getting out of the car. “Thanks for the ride.”
“Lucy, wait,” he called out, just as I was about to close the door. I swung it open again and bent down to look at him. “Just…think about it, okay?”
I gave a tiny smile. “Okay.”
34
&nbs
p; Don’t Cry for Me, Argentina
Dad and Papa were waiting for me when I went inside the house, identical masks of concern superglued on their faces.
“What happened?” Dad asked.
It took me a second to realize he was talking about the accident at school and not about what had just passed between me and Evan. “You already know what happened—I got sliced up with a sword.”
“Come on, Lucy, you know what I mean. Was anyone exposed?”
The image of Evan’s hands saturated red flashed before my eyes, and I winced. It’s okay, I reminded myself. He didn’t have any open cuts. He’ll be fine.
“No,” I lied, and immediately felt a spasm of guilt. I hated lying to my dads. But they couldn’t know how badly I’d screwed up. Trying to shift the direction of the conversation, I added, “But I did get really dizzy on stage today. That’s kind of what caused the accident.”
Papa’s jaw clenched. “Is that the first side effect you’ve felt?”
“I don’t know. I’ve been really tired lately, but that could be caused by a number of things.” I shrugged. “It wasn’t so bad. Or it wouldn’t have been if I hadn’t been in close proximity to sharp metal objects.” I grinned.
“It’s not funny, Lucy,” Papa said.
“No, I know. But it could be a lot worse,” I pointed out. A little dizziness and fatigue seemed like the least offensive of any of the side effects Dr. Vandoren had listed. I’d take them over chronic bouts of diarrhea any day.
“How’s your arm?” Dad asked.
I shrugged again. “’Tis not so deep as a well,” I quoted Mercutio, and headed toward the stairs.
“By the way, Max called,” Dad said.
I dug my heels into the carpet and spun around. “He did? What did he say?”
“He wanted to see if you were okay. He sounded worried.”
Worried. About me? Or was he freaked out about the whole don’t-let-anyone-touch-Lucy’s-blood thing?
Probably best not to call him back tonight. I needed time to figure out what the hell I was going to say.
My Life After Now Page 17