Tainted by Love

by Jones, Gillian

  When Kris emailed and told us that you’d also been affected, I needed to write. I just never knew what to say. When Blake passed, Kris gave me access to Blake’s Facebook account so I could reach out. Everything on it had been deleted, but Kris left your messages on Messenger for me so I could respond.

  Not sure if this information will help, but knowing how big a heart you have, Trinity, I wanted you to know that Kris and Blake made a list of women—and men—whom he’d slept with. From my understanding, Blake had been trying to contact as many of them as he could after getting your message telling him that you’d tested positive. It doesn’t fix anything, but I sure am hoping it might have helped some others who might have gotten infected and were wondering who gave it to them. I pray every night that no-one else has been impacted by my son’s terrible mistakes and that the Lord can find it in His heart to forgive Blake. It hurts my soul deeply to consider that he might very well be burning in Hell.

  Know he cared deeply for you, Trinity.

  Sincerely,

  Miranda Pritchard

  “…How? How is this possible? How can all of these people I know be dead? Andrea, and Blake…I thought we were advancing on this disease? I thought we were closer to curing it? My doctors tell me I can live a long and happy life…but how can I believe that when there’s so much sadness and death, so many people losing their battles?” she sobs, gripping her pillow in her hands, seeking some sort of comfort from the gesture. “And Blake, oh my God, he…he…was he having sex with men, and other women…and me? At the same time? Is that—that’s it, right? I mean, he…he was finding himself, he was lost, but, oh God, Hendrix, how long did he have it? He didn’t make it, Andrea didn’t make it, many others from my group haven’t made it…” Trinity says, baffled, before going on. “What if I don’t make it, either? I might lose…” she barely gets out, her voice dry and scratchy from crying so hard.

  Seeing and hearing her sound this way destroys a piece of the naïve hope that I’ve been using as a shield, one that fully believed there was no way Trinity could lose this fight.

  “And his mother, those ‘burden’ and ‘burning in Hell’ comments? And the going-to-church-again bit. I mean, who cares if Blake was gay, bisexual, or straight? He’s no sinner. She’s his mother, for Christ’s sake! I knew she was always hard on him, but I never suspected… She never saw the great person he was. Poor Blake. What a terrible thing for a mother to say. He couldn’t help it,” she expels, shaking her head, and I notice she’s trembling again. “I take back what I said earlier, about not forgiving him. I do. I do forgive him.”

  “You need to take a break, Trin. You’re shaking. Have a sip, please,” I say, handing her a glass of water. Thankfully, she complies. After taking a few sips, she passes it back and quickly starts talking again, and all I can do is sit with her and listen because that’s what my girl needs. She just has to get it all out.

  “Do you think Kris is a man or woman? Sounds like his mother wasn’t sure, or is just in denial? I wouldn’t have told her, either, if I were Blake and Kris. What kind of mother cares? I should hook Miranda Pritchard up with my mom and dad. God. I don’t even know how to feel right now. I’m confused, I’m mad and a part of me feels sad for Blake, even when all part of me wants is to be mad at him. He deserves my anger, right? Or does he, even?”

  “I think you have justification to feel all of these things, Fruitloop. It’s definitely a lot to take in, to process. And you’re right. His mum’s letter didn’t help.”

  “Truth?” she asks, looking me straight in the eye. Her grey eyes are the colour of storm clouds, mirroring what I’m sure is a storm of emotions raging inside.

  “Always truth,” I nod, shifting the laptop so we can be closer.

  “I’m so fucking scared,” she huffs, her breath coming out all rushed. Tears streak like bullets down her flushed face before she dives headfirst into my chest, her arms wrapped around my stomach. Holding her tight, I give her a minute to cry, massaging her neck, and offering a few soothing words before deciding I need her to listen to me now.

  “Trin, listen.” I pause, waiting for her to calm down. Then I lift her gently so she’s looking at me. “They’re not wrong, the doctors. You will live. You’re healthy. Blake lived an irresponsible lifestyle, drugs and no condoms, sex with strangers—unprotected sex with men and women, a life of confusion and denial and avoidance of reality, from what it sounds like. That’s not you, Trin. I bet he wasn’t even thinking about the what-ifs, but just trying to find himself, to figure out who he was. As for Andrea, you’re the one who told me that she’d also been in denial, that she didn’t seek treatment right away like you did. Those are mitigating factors that have to be added into the equation here. You can’t compare yourself to those two and their choices, or their outcomes.” I pause, handing her some tissues.

  “Unfortunately, within your circle and with your work with The AIDS Network and your therapy groups, you’re going to have friends and know people who will die, have died, or are dying. Unfortunately, it’s the hardest part of the disease, all the suffering and death. The loss, it’s overwhelming, but it doesn’t apply to everyone and you know this. And it will not apply to you. You are a strong healthy woman who fights. You take your meds, you seek regular medical attention, and you will benefit from today’s advances in science. You have taken on this battle headfirst, and you’re winning. Don’t you dare give up on me, Trinny. Not now, not ever.” I let the words fly out of my mouth, doing my damnedest to make her see, needing her to hear and to realize what I’m telling her.

  After a few beats of radio silence, the tension lingering, Trin’s soft voice interrupts our staring at one another. She rests her head on my chest again and says, “Close the laptop, please, Hendrix.” Her voice is low and throaty, her eyes reflecting a hurt and pain so deep it stabs at my heart. Without hesitation, I slam it closed, tossing it not-so-gently onto the bedside table.

  Laying with her in the silence of her room as the snow continues to fall in thick blankets outside the window, anger like I’ve never experienced begins to pulse through my veins. It’s a slow simmer, and the more I sit here contemplating everything, it begins to heat and boil. The need to lash out is becoming all consuming. Jumbled thoughts stream through my head as the quiet in the room fuels my rampant thoughts.

  How could Blake have been that irresponsible, so inconsiderate? How could he not see the consequences of his actions? Why didn’t he talk to Trinity? She could have helped. Fuck, I can appreciate that he was confused, maybe even ashamed of who he really was because of his family, but he should have been smarter, should have trusted someone. But who am I to judge? I’ve never walked a day in his shoes. Blake’s not much different from Ren, in a way, and I still love Ren in spite of his poor choices. Deciding I need to calm down, I keep my trap shut rather than letting all my own shit out, and work to tamp down my emotions. Thankfully, all it takes is one request from Trinity and the anger slips away.

  “Hendrix?” Trinity says, breaking through my fucked-up thoughts. “I need you to hold me,” she admits, her voice shaky.

  “Nothing else I’d rather do,” I tell her, then roll onto my side, pulling her in tight, her back flush to my front. I want to ask her all kinds of questions. I want to poke and prod until I know she’s all right, but I know that isn’t what she needs right now. I have to let her take the lead on this.

  Right now, instead of talking, we are lying together in silence. But this time we’re wrapped up in each other rather than alone in our thoughts. For a long while, no words are spoken and the only sound filling the otherwise quiet space is the snow gently tapping against the window, at the mercy of the wind’s control. It’s kind of like how Trinity has taken control of my world. I’d do anything for her, do anything she ever asked of me, go anywhere she needed me to go.

  Right now, she just needs me to hold her, and to love her. And so, I do.

  43

  Trinity

  “Hendrix,” I
say, after what feels like hours of silence.

  “I’m still here,” he replies, rubbing small circles on my stomach where my shirt’s ridden up.

  I’m exhausted from everything I learned tonight, but my mind is full and I have to get this off my chest before we move on.

  “I need to say something else and I want you to listen, and actually let me finish before you argue with me or cut me off.” I’ve spent the last while mulling everything over, and decided that Hendrix was right. There’s no way I can give up. Blake and Andrea did have very different situations than mine. I guess I just needed to be reminded of that.

  “Not gonna guarantee I can do that, Fruitloop,” he replies honestly, and I smile because it’s totally a him answer.

  “You’re impossible,” I huff, and I feel his chest move against my back as he chuckles into my hair. God, this man can take it all away. He makes things better so easily.

  “So you keep telling me,” he puts his lips to my ear and whispers. The warmth of his breath sends a wave of awareness through me, but first things first.

  “I’m serious. Let me get this out.”

  “Then can I get in?” he asks, moving his hand to cup my breast. I’m in so much trouble with this man.

  “If you’re a good little listener, I’ll definitely let you in.”

  “That’s good, Trin, ’cause I really feel the need to be as close to you as I can get after today,” he says, pulling in closer to me.

  “Okay. I want you to promise me something.” I let out a deep breath. “There’s a chance I won’t be here forever, despite all your protective caveman antics. My body might give up on me.”

  “Trinity,” Hendrix growls, but I ignore him.

  “Shhh, I’m not done,” I scold, turning to face him. It takes a bit of effort but eventually Hendrix loosens his grip enough so I can face him. Placing my hand on his cheek, I rub the stubble along his jaw and continue. “In Perpetuum Et Unum Diem—forever and a day,” I sigh, leaning in and placing a soft kiss on his lips. “That’s how long I’ll love you, even if I’m not here,” I mutter against his lips before closing my eyes and taking in the comfort of him. “I might not always be here for you to see my love, but you’ll always feel it. I’ll make sure you feel me with you. Always.”

  “Stop, talking about this shit, Trin. Right fucking now,” he grits, but I place my index finger over his lips.

  “I’m almost done. No need to get all angerball-ish.”

  “Hurry it up, then. Get it out, ’cause after this, no more of this talk. I won’t listen to it. I can’t, Fruitloop, it guts me,” Hendrix says into my neck now, gripping me tightly. “I hate thinking of this stuff, Trin.” His muscular chest convulses, and I realize how upset he is.

  “Me too, honey. I just need to say this once. I want you to hear me, to understand.”

  “I’ll listen, Trinny.”

  “If anything happens to me, I don’t want you to be sad for too long. I would want you to live your life, not to dwell, and not to get caught up in the past. I’d need you to move on and live, for both of us. If Andrea taught me anything, it’s that it’s so much better when you take risks and actually live. And you’ve taught me how to again, Hendrix. You brought a part of me back to life, a part I thought I’d lost. You’ve given me a version of happiness that I never ever imagined I could feel again. I need you to promise me that you’d move on, if it ever came to that. That you’d let love in again, because you’re really fucking good at it. Your love is so, so precious. Promise me you’d be brave and keep taking risks, even if it’s not with me. You’re too special not to.”

  “Fuck, Trin. I’m kinda mad at you right now,” he huffs, and I see the moisture in his eyes.

  God, I love him with everything I am.

  “I know, baby,” I say. “I’m sorry. Lying here, it’s all I could think about. I’ll never bring it up again. I promise.”

  “Thank, Christ. But if you make me promise that to you, then I ask the same. You never know what can happen, sick or healthy, anything can happen. But know I’ll haunt the fuck out of any man who comes sniffin’ around you,” he laughs, breaking the tension the conversation created.

  “Think it’s time to seal the deal, then? Do you still want in?” I ask, entwining my leg with his and rubbing it up and down while lifting my eyebrows suggestively, trying to bring some light into the darkness.

  “You’re impossible, Trin.”

  “Hey, that’s my li—” I’m cut off as his big body rolls over on top of me and he takes my lips in an unforgettable kiss.

  “I need inside you. Now, Fruitloop. Gotta have you wrapped around me.”

  “Yes,” I say, shifting my foot up to hook his pants and pull them down as my hands push them from above. “Take me slow, Hendrix. Make me forget the rest. Make me remember only this, with you,” I rasp out, lifting my shoulders up off the bed so he can remove my shirt before his own.

  “You’ll only feel me, baby. I promise,” he says, rolling a condom on before hovering over me, lifting my arms high above my head and entwining his fingers with mine. “I love you too damn much, Fruitloop. Never talk about that shit again. It’s not happening, ever. You are the only forever and a day that I want.”

  “Hendrix,” I call, as I feel him slide inside me.

  “You’re my heaven, Trin,” he says while moving into me, his thrusts soft and gentle, his cock slipping in and almost-out of me, over and over, our breathing increasing as I wrap my legs around his ass and force him in deeper. “Always feels like perfection.” He kisses my neck, before moving down to my nipples, our hands joined.

  “Let me touch you,” I plead, wiggling my arms and he sets them free. Immediately, I tangle my fingers in his hair, loving the softness.

  “Thank you for loving me, Hendrix. For opening my eyes and helping me to see me the way you saw me from the start.”

  “In Perpetuum Et Unum Diem, baby,” he mutters over my lips, and he continues to make slow sweet love to me on one of the hardest days of my life.

  44

  Trinity

  It’s Christmas Eve day, and for the first time since Andrea’s death, I’m feeling giddy and excited about something. I’m actually almost cheerful.

  I can’t wait to see Hendrix’s face when he sees one of his presents later today. He’s been incredible the last three weeks. I took Andrea’s death hard. With that and then reading Blake’s message—and his mom’s—I was so overwhelmed that it left me off kilter, even though Hendrix was there for me one hundred percent. It’s taken several days of moping and feeling every emotion under the sun to finally be feeling a little more like myself again, and I’m glad.

  Today, though, I’m completely over the moon. My plan to bring Hendrix’s mum here from the UK for the holidays is working out perfectly. The fact that he has no idea what I’ve managed to pull off makes it that much more special. Kara Hills reached out to me by email a few weeks ago, mentioning something about needing to be introduced to the woman who’s been making her son extremely happy. We’ve been chatting and planning ever since. Kara was thrilled when I asked if she and Arran would like to join us at Christmas as a surprise for Hendrix.

  Looking at the office clock and walking out of the reception area towards his bay in the garage, I start to tense up. “Hendrix, are you ready to go? I don’t want to hit traffic on the 401 or we’ll be late. Tillie said my Aunt B.’s plane will be arriving at 1:50 p.m. at Pearson,” I lie. For the sake of my surprise. “It’ll take us at least an hour to get there. Let’s go! Besides, it’s Christmas Eve, Mr. Scrooge, and everyone else has gone home. Everyone else went home an hour-and-a-half ago.”

  “I’ll be right there. I’m almost done. I need, like, five minutes. I just have to adjust this rear door, the fucker won’t align properly. It’s driving me mad. I can’t leave it like this for the next few days or it will haunt me and wreck my Christmas. Fucker’s off a bit at the top,” he says, grunting against what I assume is said door.

&n
bsp; “Okay, but hurry. I’m going to go feed the cat. You’ve got until I get back,” I say, crossing my arms and pushing my tits together. Of course, his eyes flare with interest now that my chest is all fluffed up. I twirl the pompom on my Santa hat for added effect. “Then we need to go, regardless, unless you want me driving myself,” I add, knowing full-well that will never happen. Caveman issues and everything, right?

  “The hell you’ll drive in this weather. There’s black ice on the highway. And don’t even think about changing furball’s litter. I’ll do it once we’re back.”

  “Yes, bossy,” I salute.

  “Takes one to know one,” he grins back, and I stick out my tongue.

  “Now, now, Fruitloop, we do need to go. You stick that tongue out again, and we won’t be going anywhere, except maybe Flynn’s office. He’s got a pretty nice new swivel chair in there.”

  “Five minutes,” I say, ignoring him, rolling my eyes and walking away.

  *

  “Tillie said Terminal 3, Flight TS723,” I say, looking at my phone to make sure we’re in the right spot.

  “We’re good. Aunt B. should come right out those doors.” Hendrix points to the large set of sliding double-doors in front of us. The huge sign that reads “Arrivals” might also be a clue that we are indeed in the right spot. He’s standing beside me, his hand resting on my neck, rubbing his thumb as usual, giving me goosebumps. I lean into his side and wrap one arm around his waist.

  “Is this is Tillie’s sister or Dex’s?” Hendrix asks, looking down at me, swiping my bangs off my face.

  “Tillie’s. This will be her first visit to Canada in years, all the way from England,” I say, diverting my eyes from his, not wanting to give myself away. I’m a horrible liar, always have been.