“Um, yeah.” Lydia manages to raise her eyebrows and give me her mom stare, even though her cheeks are red. “You’re supposed to use condoms all the time, even during oral.”
“Yeah…” My brows furrow. “I’ve never heard that before. That sounds fake.”
“It’s not,” she says, shaking her head. “Simone, you seriously scare me.”
That’s definitely something I did not hear from Dr. Walker. How did she forget to tell me? It’s times like these I wish I could talk to my doctor without my dad hovering around.
“Do I have to wear something?” I ask, rubbing the back of my neck. “Like…if someone wanted to go down on me?”
“They have these plastic things,” Claudia says, waving her hand. “I forget what they’re called. You hold them over your—”
“Dental dams,” Lydia interrupts. “They might have some here.”
“Don’t bother,” Claudia says, already wandering away. “Here’s what you do: Get a condom. Cut off the ring and the tip. Make one horizontal cut. Then you’ve got a dental dam. Boom.”
“Wow, Claudia. You’re a genius.”
“Yeah, yeah,” she says, already distracted by a new shelf. “Emma showed me how to do it. Hey, do you think I should buy a strap-on?”
“I found the vibrators!” I call, walking over to a different section. “Oh, there are so many types.”
I gaze openmouthed at the selection as the girls come over to see.
“G-spot, couples’ action…,” I read, squinting at the labels. “Oh, dual action. Dude, I definitely recommend that one.”
Claudia holds it up to the ceiling. It’s pink and seems to sparkle in the light.
“So?” Lydia taps her foot. “Is it the one?”
“Definitely.” Claudia grins. “This’ll be perfect. She’ll love it.”
I go for a bullet vibrator. It’s purple, small, and cheap. The two twenties in my back pocket will cover it.
Claudia turns toward the cash registers, ready to check out, but I grab her arm.
“Wait, guys,” I say, staring at the two of them. “I probably don’t even need to say this, but you have to promise you won’t say anything about this when you come over later. My dads will never let it go.”
I doubt they’d care if I buy a vibrator, since masturbating doesn’t carry a risk to anyone. But it’s not something I want to share with them. Anyway, I doubt they’ll hear “sex-toy store” and think I bought a vibrator. They’ll think I’m having sex and try to lock me in my room for the rest of my life.
“Trust me,” Lydia says, holding up her hands. “I don’t want my parents finding out about this, either.”
“But why?” Claudia asks, glancing at me. “I thought your parents were super, like, liberated. I don’t know.”
She’s not wrong. I don’t mind talking to my parents about most stuff. Weed? Sure. Underage drinking? I’d get a lecture, but at least we would be able to laugh about it. Talking about sex doesn’t make either of my parents laugh. I hate the way they deflate whenever the subject comes up, as if the idea depresses them.
Look, I get that most parents don’t want to think about their kid engaging in sexual acts. But when it comes to my family, their general openness with everything else makes the awkwardness about sex even worse. If they had any other kid, a kid without HIV, I’m sure they’d leave condoms in the bathroom. Knowing that they can’t—won’t—do the same with me sucks.
“Yeah, they are cool,” I say, scratching the back of my head. “But they’re still parents.”
* * *
Lydia shows us this random hippie coffee shop down the street from the Pleasure Chest. I’ve never been there before, but apparently it’s cheap, and that’s enough for me.
“How do kinks work, though?” I ask, stealing a sip from Lydia’s cup. The Pleasure Chest has awakened my curiosity. “Like, do married people buy sex toys together? Do you talk about your kinks the first time you bang? What if you don’t have sex until your wedding night and then find out that your spouse is into butt plugs?”
“I think that’s why you should discuss sex before marriage,” Claudia says, twirling her straw. “So you know that you’re compatible and everything. You wouldn’t want to marry someone who, like, wants you to dress up like a dog while you have sex. It helps you weed through the dating pool.”
“Don’t kink-shame,” Lydia says, not looking at me as she takes her cup back.
“Wait, so what if you’re having sex with Ian and he stops and asks you to wear a dog mask?” I ask, leaning forward. “Are you saying that you’d do it?”
“Hell no,” Lydia scoffs. “I’m just saying that you shouldn’t judge. Hopefully, Miles won’t judge you when he finds out about your old-white-man fetish.”
“It’s not that weird,” I say, even as Claudia laughs. “And it’s not like I’d just randomly mention Yeah, I love to look at pictures of Harrison Ford when I get off.”
“Hey, you never know,” Claudia says, leaning back in her chair. “Boys don’t listen to anything, anyway. You could probably tell him that you’re the Zodiac Killer and he wouldn’t actually hear you.”
“That’s not true—”
“He’s definitely not hearing anything after getting laid, though,” Lydia agrees, pointing a finger at me. “So you could give him head or something and then share all your darkest secrets.”
“What?” I shake my head, shoulders heaving with laughter. “Lydia, do you hear yourself sometimes?”
I turn to Claudia, but her face is red from laughing too much. I can’t even blame her. It doesn’t matter if Lydia is serious or not. She goes from being embarrassed about buying sex toys to providing explicit advice like it’s not a big deal. I love her so much.
“Wait, wait,” Claudia says, finally catching her breath. “If you’re giving him head, he should do something for you. It’s only fair.”
“I’m not on the pill,” I say. It’s the truth, but not the main reason why I’m hesitant.
“So?” She wiggles her eyebrows. “You don’t have to have, like, penetrative sex.”
“Claudia,” I say. “You sound like my doctor.”
“I’m just saying you can figure it out,” she says. “Who knows? Maybe Miles will want to return the favor.”
I stare at her. “You think you’re so clever, don’t you?”
She grins.
“Maybe you can jerk off together,” Lydia suggests. “That’s kind of nice.”
A woman walks past, glancing over at us. There aren’t many people around—mostly senior citizens who probably can’t hear what we’re saying. It still feels sort of icky. There’s a difference between talking about this in front of people who remind me of my grandparents and joking within the walls of the Pleasure Chest.
“Guys,” I hiss. “We’re in a public place.”
“Old people have sex,” Claudia says. “There’s not an age limit on getting off.”
I almost choke on my hot chocolate.
It’s impossible to be around my friends and feel uncomfortable. I just met them this year, but I feel like I fit with them. I bought a vibrator with Claudia. Lydia let me sleep over at her house a week after I met her. They act like they can tell me anything. That means I should be able to do the same with them, right?
I don’t want to tiptoe around it anymore. I want to tell them about the stupid letter I got and ask for their advice. I want to complain about my parents being weird about sex without blaming it on religion. I want to talk to them without worries, the way we talk about everything else.
I glance around the café. It’s not like anyone from school is here. I force myself to take a breath.
“I need to tell you guys something.” I run a hand through a portion of my hair. My hands get stuck on the short, kinky curls. “But you have to promise t
hat you won’t tell anyone else. Like ever.”
“Um,” Claudia says.
“I’m worried,” Lydia says. “Should I be worried?”
“No,” I say. Even though I’m worried. “It’s just—something important.”
“As long as you’re not pregnant,” Claudia says, waving a hand. “I promise not to tell.”
“I’m the best secret keeper,” Lydia adds. “You know that.”
“Right.” I rub my hands on my jeans. “Well, um. I have HIV.”
I swipe my hand over my eyes so I don’t have to look at them. My voice is a whisper, and part of me wonders if they can hear me.
“And,” I say, “I just wanted you guys to know because you’re my best friends and you’re really important to me.”
Silence. I slowly move my hand away. Claudia’s eyebrows are raised. Lydia looks like she’s going to cry.
“So you’re sick?” Lydia asks, dropping her fork onto her plate. “Are you—do you—are you going to be okay?”
“Yeah, yeah, of course,” I say, voice thick. She grabs my hand, giving it a squeeze. “I’m on medication and I go to the doctor all the time. It’s pretty normal. Like, I’m not dying anytime soon, if that’s what you mean.”
“That’s good,” Claudia says, eyes roaming over me. “You don’t look like you have it.”
My brain almost short-circuits. “What does that mean?”
“No, it wasn’t, like, an insult,” she says, eyes wide. “I just mean—you don’t look sick. You look normal. I don’t know.”
“Yeah,” I say, rolling my eyes. “You obviously don’t.”
I don’t know what I expected—not outright hatred, but not for her to say something so ridiculous, either. Claudia’s smart. Part of me feels like she said it to bother me, but that isn’t fair. I’ve lived with this forever, and she’s probably never dealt with it until today. She’s allowed not to know. Still, I twist in my seat. The air has shifted.
“Well,” Claudia says after a moment. “I’m really glad you told us, Simone.”
“Definitely,” Lydia says, squeezing my hand again. “How—how’d you get it?”
“Why do you care?” I snap. The words come out like a reflex. Lydia just asked a question, but all I can think about is what Sarah asked when I told her: How did you get it? Like she was looking for some way to blame me. To find out if I’d been doing drugs or sleeping around.
“Oh, I just…” Lydia’s voice trails off. “Never mind.”
“Do your parents know?” Claudia asks.
“Yeah, of course.” My brows furrow. “Why wouldn’t they?”
“Well,” Lydia says, mouth scrunching, “at the Pleasure Chest, you sort of made it sound like they’re a little strict about sex. So if you told them about something like this—”
“Oh,” I say. “No. No, no, no. It’s not like that.”
I shake my head, forcing myself to swallow. I guess I should’ve made this a little clearer.
Lydia blinks, glancing at Claudia. They seem to have a silent conversation. I hate it. I wish we could go back to before, when all three of us were talking together.
“My biological mom had it, so I was born with it,” I say. “And I wanted to tell you guys sooner, but it’s just that I told one of my friends at my old school and it didn’t really work out.”
“What do you mean?” Lydia asks. “Did she get mad?”
“She was just weird.” I shrug, thinking back to when I first told Sarah my secret. How she recoiled like I’d just spit on her. How she called me selfish for keeping it to myself. How I knew that everything would change, right there, even before she left my room. “She told a bunch of people so, you know. That gave me some trust issues.”
“What a bitch,” Claudia says, leaning back in her chair. “What a fucking bitch.”
“Yeah,” I say, picking at the table. “Anyway, that’s why my parents are so weird about sex. They don’t want me to expose anyone.”
“Oh,” Claudia says. “That’s…good, right?”
“I guess,” I say. “But they’re just—intense about it. Like, if I weren’t positive, they’d probably be the type to leave condoms in the bathroom.”
“I mean,” she says. “You don’t…”
She goes silent as I stare at her. She knows my parents. I know my parents. There’s no point in trying to argue with me.
“I’m sorry about all the questions,” Lydia says, rubbing her forehead. “I just—I don’t really know anything about this.”
“Yeah,” Claudia says. “And I’m glad no one gave it to you. I mean, your mom did, but I was worried, like, you got assaulted or something.”
“No.” I shake my head. “Nothing like that.”
We lapse into silence. I’ve known Claudia and Lydia since the beginning of the school year, and we’ve never had a silence this awkward. They didn’t react badly, I guess, but this still feels painful.
“Well,” I say, clearing my throat. “I guess now’s the time to tell you about the letter.”
They share a confused glance.
“Someone left a letter in my locker.” I tap my fingers against my knees. “They said they would tell everyone I have HIV if I don’t stop hanging out with Miles.”
“What the fuck?” Claudia’s voice is blunt. “They don’t control who you can and cannot talk to. Fuck them.”
“You don’t get it, Claudia,” I say. “You don’t know what it would be like if they decided to tell.”
I can’t think about what happened at my old school. I don’t want to think about the news spreading on Facebook, moms complaining about their daughters sharing bathrooms and cafeterias with me. When I think back, what I remember most is how completely unprepared I was for everyone to turn on me. I feel unprepared now, at a different school two hours away.
“We should tell someone,” Lydia says, glancing between us. “Maybe a teacher. They can help, right?”
I grimace.
“Look.” Claudia claps her hands together. “I don’t give a shit who this person is. They could be the president for all I care, all right? They don’t get to control your decisions. And if you don’t wanna tell a teacher, I think you should just ignore them.”
“I can’t just ignore them,” I say. “Not if they’re following me around.”
“So why don’t you tell the principal?” Lydia asks. “This is the sort of stuff she’s there for.”
“No,” I sigh, running a hand over my face. “If I tell the principal, I’ll have to tell her that I’m positive and then tell the entire backstory. For all I know, the principal could be freaked out about HIV, too. I’m not taking that chance unless I absolutely have to.”
Lydia shakes her head.
“If you don’t want to tell any adults, I’m not sure what to do.” She chews at her thumb. “I wish I did.”
“I can track the kid down and kill them, if you want,” Claudia offers. “It wouldn’t be a problem.”
“No, you can’t kill anyone.” I lean against my chair, exhausted by the entire situation. “I’m just worried about everyone finding out, especially Miles. I know I’ll have to tell him. I’m just afraid.”
“Of what?” Lydia asks, cocking her head. “That he won’t want to hang out with you?”
“Yeah, that.” I bite my lip, staring at the table. “And that he won’t want to have sex with me.”
My eyes dart up to see Claudia and Lydia sharing a glance.
“I don’t wanna sound like your parents, but sex isn’t everything,” Claudia says. “I can still have a good time with Emma without having sex. It sounds corny, but sex doesn’t always make a relationship.”
“I know, but I still want to. I just don’t want him to regret it.” My voice sounds so small, smaller than I’ve heard it in a while. “We kiss and
he doesn’t think anything of it, because he doesn’t know. I’m afraid he won’t even want to touch me when he finds out. Why would he?”
“Don’t say that,” Claudia snaps. I glance up to see that her eyes are dark. “Never, ever say that, okay?”
“It’s true.”
“It’s not,” she fires back. Lydia stares between the two of us with wide eyes. “There are—damn, Simone, you’re not the only one with HIV. There are so many people who have it. You guys are people, like everyone else.”
“I know that.” My voice rises. Claudia talks like she is the positive one, but I’m the one living with HIV. I’m the one who takes a hit every time someone makes a stupid comment without thinking about it. “It’s just different, Claudia. Everyone is shallow, and I don’t think anyone would want to be around me if they knew.”
“We know and we’re still here,” Lydia says, squeezing my shoulder. “I’m so glad that you told us.”
Tears well up, and I blink to keep them from rolling over.
“Yeah.” I wipe at my eyes. “God, I hate this. I wish I were ace.”
“Girl, it has its own problems.” Claudia kisses her teeth. “You don’t know how many talks Emma and I have about it. I feel like we’re talking about it every single week. No, dear, I don’t like when you go down on me, even though I’m sure you’re really good at it.”
A snicker escapes my lips. “Dude.”
“It’s true.”
Part of me wants to laugh, but I’m still thinking about what she said before. I’m not the only one with HIV. There are tons of kids at St. Mary’s Hospital who go to get checkups each month, like me. We can’t all be lonely, unwanted members of society. I wouldn’t even want to be with someone who thinks badly of me because of the virus.
“I mean, I get why someone would be more, I don’t know, cautious,” Claudia says, lowering her voice. “But if you tell Miles and he’s a jerk about it, he just doesn’t deserve you.”
“I know.” I glance down at the hand holding Lydia’s. “I just really like him. I wish I didn’t have to do this and worry about how he’d react. It freaks me out.”
Full Disclosure Page 7