The New Sense

Friday, May 17, 2002

The phone call from the clinic came this morning. B— was still in bed and I was still groggy. Not for long. All of those feelings from the clinic waiting room rushed back and turned my adrenal glands on to the max.
Even when she said 'negative' it took me several seconds of mental wrestling before being sure that 'negative' was the right answer. Phew! Not going to die right now. At least of AIDS. Could be hit by a bus, but they can't test for that ("Sorry, Ms. Sam, but you're HBB positive. You'll develop symptoms sometime between the next few months and two years. Maybe you'll be hit by a bike or a kid on a skateboard, or, if you're lucky, just have a pigeon shit on you, but chances are that within ten years you'll die from being hit by a bus.")
I went into the bedroom and woke him up. I had already made my mind up that I was going to ask him to take one too. It was a bit unfair, because he wasn't very awake.
"I want you to go and have an AIDS test."
"Huh?"
"I had one last week. I didn't want to tell you about it for some reason, but I'm okay, and now I want you to have one so I can stop worrying and you'll be happy because of the condom thing, and it'll be like a mark of something solid between us if you do this for me and it would really make me happy."
Yep — the adrenaline was turned on to the max.
"Uhhh…I'm not sure."
"About what?"
"About the test."
"What about the test?"
"If I want to have one."
"Why?"
"Er…could you just let me wake up first?"
"Oh, okay."
I let him go and have his shower and waited in the bedroom, even though I was in danger of being late for work and incurring the phlegm of Olga. He came back, all pink and tousled.
"Umm… I don't really like people taking my blood."
"Who does? That's not the point."
"What kind of clinic is it?"
"It's a private one. It's all very discreet."
"Are you sure about this? I swear I don't have any diseases."
"Yeah, well, that's what they all say, and more fool me for doing what we've been doing all this time. Please. I haven't asked much of you."
"Okay then. Could you call for me and make the appointment? Ask them if I can pay cash and not use my real name."
Whatever. "Sure. Thank you."
"You're welcome. Aren't you late?"
That's one of the weird things about B— ; he always knows exactly what time it is, though he doesn't wear a watch and there's no clock in the apartment. Except for the VCR, which isn't between the bedroom and the bathroom anyway.
So I called and made the appointment for him for next Friday. I guess the women at the clinic was used to requests for secrecy, as she didn't even question it.
I feel like me and B—are really getting somewhere. This evening we went out with Kelly. She really likes him and he seems to like her. If she wasn't so nice she'd be jealous, I'm sure.

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