I swallow. “What are you talking about?”
“I started it both times. It’s only fair that you lead this time.”
“Well, I did try yesterday at rehearsal.” I put my hand on the back of his neck, and he goes a little stiff. “It didn’t exactly work out. You should’ve said something.”
“You like when I do things with my mouth.” It isn’t a question. The smile on his face is too cheeky. “Don’t lie. I watch you. You like it.”
My cheeks flush. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“Okay,” he scoffs. “Next time I eat ice cream—”
“You’re horrible,” I say. “Completely horrible.”
Then I kiss him so he can’t argue.
CHAPTER 12
I make the mistake of grabbing yesterday’s mail from the mailbox on my way inside. An envelope has my first and last name on it in bright red ink, but no address or return address. My stomach wobbles as I rip it open.
Miles won’t want to hang out with you if he finds out the truth. And he will find out.
How the fuck did the note-leaver figure out where I live? I stare down at the envelope like it’ll reveal the secret. Fuck, fuck, fuck. This is a million times worse than finding the first letter in my locker. Whoever wrote this doesn’t just know where I live—they were here. A shiver runs down my back.
“How was it, baby?” I glance up to see Pops and Dad standing in the doorway. “Did you have fun?”
My mouth opens, but nothing comes out.
“What’s wrong?” Dad frowns. “Did he hurt you?”
I shake my head, not trusting myself to speak, before sliding past them. Of all times, the note had to come now? When my parents aren’t going to leave me alone? I don’t even know how to act like everything is normal. Part of me wants to tell them, so they can make everything better like they used to when I was little, but I push it down. They’d never let me stay at this school if they found out. I’d rather deal with this than switch schools again. Not junior year. Not when I’m directing the musical, not when I just met Claudia and Lydia at the beginning of the school year. Not now.
“Come on, baby,” Pops says, following me into the kitchen. “You can tell us if you didn’t have a good time. Sometimes that happens.”
“No,” I say, shaking my head. “It was a lot of fun, actually.”
I look up to see them sharing a glance. Dad still has his lab coat on, which means that he is using his break to grill me about the date. Ugh.
“What?” I finally ask. Their silence isn’t doing anything to help the knot in my stomach. “Is something going on?”
“You have something on your neck,” Dad says, brushing his own neck as an example. “I don’t think you’ll be able to wipe it off.”
My hand snaps to my neck, but it’s too late. Fuck. I think there was maybe a moment where Miles was kissing around my neck, but only for a second. I touch the mark, but it doesn’t hurt.
“Oh,” I say, my cheeks burning. “Yeah. About that…”
Neither of them says anything. I swallow, turning to the pantry and raiding the box of Oreos. The fact that neither one of them is talking is worse than a lecture. I normally don’t mind sharing stuff, but this is a completely different playing field. I don’t know how to talk about boys without freaking them out. Hell, I’m freaking out. If they noticed, I’m sure the note-leaver will notice, too, if they’re watching me so closely. And who’s to say that creep wasn’t at the park today? It’s like I’m not free to do anything I want, anything that would make me feel good. I suck in a deep breath. My hands are shaking.
“So, is it official?” Dad folds his arms. “Are you seeing this boy now?”
“I don’t know if we’re seeing each other, exactly,” I say, which is the truth. I turn to face them, but neither one appears amused. “But I like to kiss him. And we talk about musicals. We watched one together on Netflix.”
Another shared glance. Dad clears his throat.
“Are you actually watching the shows, or—”
“We watch stuff, Dad,” I say, trying not to roll my eyes. “It’s not like he’s ever been over here, so we can’t really do anything else but watch.”
Pops makes a face. “Well…”
“Ew. Oh my gosh, no, I can’t do this,” I say, covering my ears. “If you’re going to be creepy about sex, I can’t listen to this. I’ve been scarred too many times over.”
“Don’t be so dramatic.” Pops steps forward, moving my hands. “If you’re going to start dating, we need to be open about it, like we are with everything else. Sex is a big decision, Simone. Especially because…”
“Because I’m positive.”
“Well.” Pops glances at Dad. “Yeah, actually. That complicates things.”
I know what comes next—When are you going to tell him? And that’s the hardest question. I’m going to have to do it eventually, if we keep hanging out, especially if the note-leaver already knows. I just wish I didn’t have to worry about it. I wish I could just think about ice cream and backstage crew and the way Miles looks when he smiles. It’s not fair.
“All right,” Dad says, breaking the silence. I can tell he’s trying to hold back on a lecture. “We aren’t saying you can’t see this boy, Simone. You just have to be mindful. Maybe have a conversation with him about remaining abstinent. It’s important that you communicate about this.”
“I know,” I say, drumming my fingers against the table. “But it doesn’t really matter. I don’t—I haven’t told him yet. We haven’t—he doesn’t need to know right now. And once I tell him, I doubt he’ll stick around for a conversation about abstinence.”
“Well, things can’t move forward if you don’t tell him,” Pops says. “Did something happen?”
“Nothing happened,” I say, sighing. “I’m just saying that nothing is going to happen if I tell him—which I have to. Basically, there’s no reason for either of you to worry, because we’re not going to get close enough for that to happen. The only reason we got this far is because he doesn’t know.”
I stare down at the table, surprised to find myself blinking back tears. HIV is usually at the back of my mind. Taking my pill each morning is automatic, and so are the doctor’s appointments. Before I started thinking about boys and sex and other stupid things, the only time I really thought about it was at Group.
“Cariño,” Dad says, shocked. “You’re smart and funny and dedicated to everything you do. You’re an amazing friend and daughter. Anyone would be lucky to date you. Your blood doesn’t change that.”
“I know.” I blink a little bit faster. I’m not going to cry. “But other people don’t know that.”
“So you find the smart people who do,” Pops says. “I’m sure Claudia and Lydia do.”
I glance up. Pops’s face is soft. I don’t know how he figured out I’d told them. Technically, I broke one of our big rules by telling. The last time I broke it, I had to move to a different school. Maybe that’s why they haven’t chewed me out: they figure I’ve learned my lesson.
“You know,” Pops starts. “I was nervous about adopting an HIV-positive baby.”
“Pops—”
“I’m serious. I was worried that I wouldn’t be able to hold you or kiss you. Not because I thought I’d get sick. I thought I would have to watch you suffer all alone.”
It feels like there’s something stuck in my throat. I’ve heard this story before, millions of times. It’s comforting, like a song you can recognize just from the opening notes.
“I think there’s something symbolic about the fact that you were positive, being adopted by us,” Pops says, his voice quiet. “We lost so many people we loved from AIDS. I know I keep telling you, but the first person I came out to—my best friend—I watched him die. And I didn’t think I could watch my child go through tha
t.”
“Fear is powerful,” Dad says, nodding his head. “And I think that’s the reason why so many people are ignorant. They’re worried about something horrible happening.”
“But that doesn’t mean they should project that onto me,” I say, shutting my eyes. It’s hard not to think about the stupid notes. I don’t even know who wrote them, but whoever it is thinks they know me. “I’m not—I’m not trying to kill anyone. And it’s not my fault. I’m not any different, you know?”
Pops squeezes my shoulder. “Of course we know.”
“We wanted you before we knew you, but after I found out how strong you were, I wanted you even more,” Dad says. “You were such a fierce little thing. And you’ve always been resilient. Every time we take you into that hospital, we see kids like you living their lives and thriving. We knew you could have a life.”
“But—”
“I know why you’re upset, Mone,” Pops says. “But you can’t control ignorant people. There are so many factors at play. Some people don’t understand, and some are just plain hateful. Some people hate HIV because of who they picture having the virus. People like us.”
“I wish they didn’t exist.”
“We can’t live by them,” Dad says, his voice firm. “We continue living our lives and fighting the fight. You can’t just let people control you with their hate. You keep living, Simone.”
I hold both of their hands in mine. With my parents, I don’t have to worry about disclosure or people being afraid of me or getting angry. Here, I’m just part of our family, and there’s nothing but love.
CHAPTER 13
Look, I don’t hate going to St. Mary’s every three months. I’ve been going to Dr. Khan for my checkups ever since I was little, and she’s basically my third parent.
I like spending time with my parents, and the hospital isn’t a bad place to be and it gets me out of morning classes for the day. But today, I’d rather jump out of the car than listen to Dad sing along—horribly—to Bowie’s “Changes.” Part of it is because it’s a Monday, and I hate Mondays. But there’s another part, too: I want to talk to Dr. Khan about sex, no matter how awkward it is.
As if to twist the knife, Dad hits a particularly high note. I wince.
“Pops, if I were you, I’d leave Daddy,” I say, a hand pressed against my chin. “He can hardly carry a tune. You need someone with flare.”
Pops glances up at me in the rearview mirror and grins.
“Naw, I’d never leave your daddy,” Pops says, casting a playful glance in Dad’s direction. “Not for anyone. Well, maybe Idris Elba, if he showed up.”
Dad gives him a shocked look. I snicker into my hand.
“What happened to ‘till death do us part’?” he asks. “Idris can’t promise you that, not with all the people waiting on his doorstep. He can’t give you—”
“If this is turning into some weird sex talk, please leave me out of it,” I say, twirling an earbud around my finger. “It’s not necessary for me to hear anything more than I already do.”
Dad’s face reddens a little bit, but Pops just waves a hand.
“Don’t be so dramatic,” he says, scoffing. “It’s perfectly normal for your parents to love each other.”
I roll my eyes as he pulls into the hospital’s gigantic parking lot.
“Come on, you two,” Dad says, sliding out of the front seat. “Let’s grace the lovely Dr. Khan with our presence.”
We walk into the hospital like we own the place—and honestly, we sort of do.
The Infectious Disease Clinic (ID for short) is on the main floor, behind a gray door plastered with smiley-face stickers. It makes me smile; it’s like looking at the posters I used to keep on the walls of my bedroom.
“Simone!” Auntie Jackie calls from the front desk. “It’s barely been a month, and you already look like you grown. Stop getting so big!”
Auntie Jackie is loud and small and perfect. When I was little, she’d give me candy like M&M’s or Mike and Ikes to help me practice taking my meds, and she told Pops that I should leave my hair in braids when I went to school. She sends me cards on my birthdays, came to my eighth-grade graduation, and she’s always the nurse to take my blood. I started calling her my aunt when I was six.
“Simone’s still a baby,” Pops says, giving her a quick hug. “Even if she does think that she’s too grown for our house. Don’t go giving her any ideas.”
“How have you boys been?” Auntie Jackie sneaks a hand around Dad’s neck as she leads us toward the examination rooms. “Doing good?”
“They’ve been talking about college,” I say, stretching the word out. We pass Nurse Patty in another kid’s room, and wave at her. “I don’t know why they would ever want to get rid of me, since I’m obviously the best.”
Pops just scoffs, while Dad rubs my shoulder.
“Education is a blessing, Miss Simone,” Auntie Jackie says, casting a glance at me. “I’m sure that a little time on your own would toughen you up.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I always say exactly what I mean.”
We reach the examination room and I hop on the table, swinging my legs like I’m five again. The walls are decorated with stickers of superheroes and Barbie dolls. I’m probably too old to be coming to the pediatric section, but whatever. I wouldn’t want to go anywhere else.
“All right, you know the drill,” Auntie Jackie says. She ties the tight blue elastic around my arm while Dad and Pops get comfortable. “College ain’t so bad, baby. I wish I had gone earlier.”
“I’ve heard that a few times.” I stare down at my arm as she sticks the needle in. She has a bunch of little vials that she switches out seamlessly. “But that doesn’t mean I’m excited about it. It doesn’t mean my parents should be so eager to get rid of me.”
“Just because you said that, we’re going to throw a party the day you leave,” Dad says, fiddling with his glasses. His other hand rests in Pops’s. God, they’re so corny. “Then we’ll change the locks.”
“I don’t know how you watch her do that,” Pops says. My eyes, which were focused on the needle and the vial, snap over to him. He’s staring down at his shoes.
“What?” I ask. “The blood? Are you afraid I’m going to drink it or something?”
Auntie Jackie snickers. “Don’t disrespect your father.”
“It’s not something we need to watch,” Pops says, rubbing a hand over his face. “Blood is just…”
“You have blood, too,” Dad says, nudging his shoulder. “Do you scare yourself?”
“Man, I can’t trust none of y’all,” Pops snaps. “You’re not too old to be spanked, Simone.”
I roll my eyes. He’s been saying that since I was five, but he’s never actually done it. I think it’s just something he heard growing up.
“She’ll be an adult soon enough,” Auntie Jackie says. She gently pulls the needle out of my arm, taping some gauze down. “How’s your new school? I don’t have to show up and kick someone’s behind, do I?”
“You asked last time,” I remind her, rolling down my sleeves. “It hasn’t changed much. Um, there are lots of rich kids. I don’t know. It’s school, Auntie Jackie.”
“I think she’s enjoying it,” Dad says, giving me one of his knowing smiles. “She’s the director of the school play, and her teachers rave about her.”
“I don’t expect anything less,” Auntie Jackie says with a wide smile. “I’ll see you on opening night, all right? I’d better hear about those tickets.”
I give her a small smile. I want to tell her about Miles—about how he watched Sweeney Todd just because I talked about it so much, about how he looks at me, how he makes me feel like I’m floating after he kisses me.
Maybe Auntie Jackie would understand what it’s like to want to have it
both ways: to disclose, but also to forget about HIV when I’m with him.
Auntie Jackie was one of the first people who found out what happened at my old school. She kept saying everything I’ve always heard when I come here: “There’s no reason to be ashamed, but you still have to keep it a secret.” I don’t know if I can keep doing both.
Dr. Khan strolls in just as Auntie Jackie leaves. The door’s open for just a few moments, but I hear the sound of a baby wailing.
Dr. Khan has a different hijab on every time I see her. I’m sure they’re meant to impress the little kids, but I still think they’re cool. Today, it’s red with elephants running down the sides. Her earrings have the same pattern, even though they’re shaped like giraffes.
“Look who’s here!” She flashes a bright smile to everyone in the room, a clipboard tucked under her armpit. “How are you doing, Simone? What’s up?”
She settles herself down on the rolling doctor’s chair, which I used to zoom around on when I was ten and got pneumonia. It was super fun, until Pops found me and started freaking out.
“Just school,” I say, shrugging. “Trying to survive when I’m there, and do nothing when I’m not.”
“She’s not doing nothing,” Pops corrects me.
“I’m not helping orphans with AIDS in India or anything cool like that,” I say, glancing at her.
She scrunches up her mouth. “Not everyone has to join the Peace Corps,” she says, tapping her pen against the clipboard. “There are plenty of ways to make a difference.”
I shrug again.
“Have you been taking your medication?”
“Yup.” I pop the p. “I’d get in trouble if I didn’t.”
She might be thinking about the time I did exactly that. Judging by the look on his face, Pops definitely is. In my defense, I only stopped taking my meds because the liquid stuff was so nasty and I couldn’t swallow pills yet. The doctors said I was only getting half of the amount of medication I needed by the time I got pneumonia. Such a little rebel.
Full Disclosure Page 10