Chapter 3
CHAPTER 3
James and I talked a little longer before I left. I had a lot to think about. My thoughts might have been less tangled up, but it felt like they’d multiplied and gotten louder. There were parts of James’ story that I hadn’t even considered. There were parts of being in a relationship with Aaron that I hadn’t even thought about. Not that I had much time to think about any of it yet.
I already knew that night would be a heavy one.
I thought about stopping at the liquor store on the way home, buying some mental lubrication to help the thoughts slide around easier. I decided against it. I needed to be clear headed while I contemplated the future of my relationship, because that’s what this was. The future of my relationship. It felt big, and I needed to treat it that way.
I drove past the liquor store and straight to my apartment.
As I sat down on the couch, I remembered every time Aaron had sat there with me. I remembered the first time we’d made out on this couch, a month and a half into our relationship. I’d thought that night would be the one that was different, and instead he told me that he wanted to take things slow. I’d been insecure about it, at first, but I agreed. I liked him a lot, even that early into our relationship. I liked going on dates with him, the calls and texts, the fact that he made me feel seen.
Was I really willing to throw that away because of what he’d told me?
I thought back to the way his hand always rested on my thigh, just above my knee, while we curled up together and watched TV. It felt like it belonged there, and when I was in his arms, I felt like I belonged there. I’d never felt that way before.
But was it enough?
The tale of James and Henry replayed in my mind, but I changed the roles. I was James, a little less handsome and a little older than he’d been in his story, but I filled the role well enough. Aaron was Henry, eyes sparkling the same way Henry’s did in the picture on James’ desk. I pictured us falling in love. That part was easy. I was already there, in love with someone I didn’t know if I could have. I didn’t know where Aaron was on that journey, if it was another thing he wanted to take slow. I pictured holidays and birthdays, laughing and crying together as we fell deeper in love. I thought about nights in bed, whispering shared dreams to one another.
And then I imagined how it would feel when the rug was yanked out from underneath us.
“Life isn’t guaranteed. Even if you dated someone healthy, shit could still have the same ending,” James had advised me.
Just because Aaron was HIV-positive didn’t mean that he would die. Just because I wasn’t didn’t mean that I would live a long life, either. There were too many variables.
That didn’t change the question.
I pulled out my laptop and began researching. Maybe if I had more information, I could make my decision easier. Maybe if I knew what I was facing, I could weigh the outcomes. Because I knew what I wanted. I knew it the moment Aaron walked out of my apartment.
I wanted him. I wanted the man I’d gotten to know over the past six months.
I spent the rest of the night researching. I read statistics. I read about the different medications that were available on the market, and then I read the side effects for every one of them. After reading those, I had to talk myself down, because the side effects of medication always sounded terrifying. Even for things as simple as cough syrup. I didn’t need to work myself up over side effects, even if that had been what ended James’ short marriage to Henry.
The pessimistic voice in my head really needed to shut the fuck up.
I read through things I already knew about prevention. I read articles and blog posts about people in relationships with men with HIV. The articles and blog posts calmed me down the most. There were a lot of people having these relationships, and according to most of the articles, they were the same as any other relationship. Their partner had to take a daily pill or scheduled shots. It would be the same if he had severe allergies or mental health issues. There were even articles stating that condom use and PrEP weren’t necessary when the viral load was undetectable.
The sheer number of sources assuring me that this was safe soothed my worries.
And they also kind of made me feel like an idiot. Had I overreacted? Maybe he wouldn’t even want to be with me, because I hadn’t been able to just look at him and tell him that it changed nothing. That I accepted him and that just being with him made the risk worth it. I wish I’d been able to do that right away.
Because these facts and figures, these personal accounts, talking to James, it all boiled down to one simple fact: being with him made the nominal risk worth it.
I reached for my phone, ignoring my laptop as it clattered to the floor in my rush. I navigated to our text thread and smiled.
Aaron: Good night
He’d still sent me the good night message, even after the way I’d reacted to his announcement. I didn’t deserve someone like Aaron, but damn I was glad that I’d found him anyway.
Adam: i’m sorry for how i reacted earlier. can you come over tomorrow?
I didn’t expect an answer. Since his good night message had been sent an hour before, I assumed he would be asleep. So when my phone chimed less than fifteen seconds later, I nearly jumped out of my skin. I smiled when I saw the notification of a new text message from Aaron.
Aaron: It’s not a big deal.
Adam: i reacted like shit
Aaron: I told you something big. It’s okay to take time to come to terms with it and decide what’s best for you.
Adam: i’m still sorry. so can you come over tomorrow? lunchtime maybe?
Aaron: Three good for you?
I sent him back a thumbs up and went to take a shower. Right before I fell asleep, I sent him a quick good night.
I didn’t sleep very well. I tossed and turned all night, bits and pieces of my conversation with James intermingling with memories of Aaron and dreams of our future. It wasn’t a bad dream, though there were some parts that were just weird. Like having dinner with James and Henry, the four of us settled around the table. There was probably some psychological reason for it, something about missing my family or James being a stand in dad.
I didn’t really care.
I woke up earlier than I had in a long time, finally deciding to call real sleep a wash. I spent the day anxiously cleaning my entire apartment. By the time three rolled around, I had cleaned the place from top to bottom. It was probably cleaner than the day I moved in. I’d taken a shower and changed into a nicer outfit: jeans and the band tee Aaron had bought me at the concert he’d taken to for my birthday.
He’d bought us tickets to one of my favorite bands, even though he’d told me he didn’t really like them. By the end of the night, he’d been converted. We listened to the band when we drove to the orchard to pick apples a month later. He’d made a playlist of some of their more romantic songs when he took me to a moonlit picnic, the band serenading us as we laid on a blanket lookup up at the stars, cuddled together against the cool bite of the autumn air.
I thought about playing their music now, but we needed to talk. It was the kind of conversation that required real attention, and how could I do that if I were singing along or tapping my feet or whatever?
At five past three, I heard the knock on the door.
When I opened the door, he was standing there, looking nervous. I motioned for him to come inside, and he nodded before taking a few steps past the threshold. I wanted to pull him into my arms and kiss him. I wanted to let him know that everything was okay, because it was. I wanted to tell him that I loved him, that nothing else mattered except the way I felt about him.
It would be so easy to just let everything be okay, to never talk about it. But that wouldn’t make it go away, and he might have doubts. He might wonder if I was going to walk away one day, and I didn’t want that. I wanted forever with him. Maybe six months was too soon to be thinking like that, but I didn’t care. I wanted forever with this man.
“Let’s sit down,” I suggested, motioning him toward the couch.
He followed after me without a word. We sat in the same positions we’d sat in the night before, when he’d told me that he was HIV-positive. I wished it were still the night before, that I hadn’t sent him away. I wished that I’d been able to say the right words and prevent this rift between us, but I hadn’t been able to do it. Now we had to build a bridge over it.
I didn’t know how to start.
We sat in heavy silence. I couldn’t find the words that I wanted to say, and he was endlessly patient. For the first time, I wished that he weren’t. I wished that he’d push and force me to figure out a way to start the conversation. Every second that he didn’t, the silence grew louder until it was deafening. I drew in a deep breath, and he turned his head to look at me better.
“I already said I’m sorry for how I handled your… news,” I started. He held up a hand like he was going to silence me, but dropped it after I shook my head. I needed to apologize to him. Out loud, not just over text. “I wish I’d been able to handle it better and tell you that everything was going to be okay and that it didn’t change anything between us, but I didn’t know.”
He nodded. “And if it’s not going to be okay and it does change things, then that’s okay.” Even with his perfect words, he wasn’t able to hide the sadness in his tone. My heart broke knowing I was the reason for that. “Just tell me. If things aren’t going to be okay or if you can’t handle any of this.”
I reached out tentatively, placing my hand on his. “I didn’t know if I could handle it,” I repeated. “I do now. I talked to my boss?—”
“James?” he questioned.
Because of course he remembered my boss’s name. He remembered every little thing I told him. He was just that kind of guy. How could I have questioned if his diagnosis was worth throwing away what we were building? Of course it was.
“He lost his first husband due to complications with his HIV medicine,” I explained. “He was the only person that I could talk to about this. The only person that would understand what I was going through and how I was feeling.”
“And how were you feeling?” he prompted.
“I was messed up over it,” I admitted. “I didn’t know what it meant for us. For me. I didn’t know if I could handle everything that came with it.”
“With dating a partner who has HIV?”
I nodded. “I didn’t know what it would mean. Would we always have to use condoms? Would it mean that I couldn’t have the future I want with you?”
“What kind of future do you want? Maybe I can answer that.”
Why had I mentioned anything about futures? Because now I had to tell him all of it. I felt my cheeks burn. Oh god. His hand squeezed mine, and I looked into his deep eyes. “I want to grow old with you. I want to come home to you at night and tell you about my day, because I know that you’ll listen better than anyone else I’ve ever known. I want to call you my husband. I might want to have kids with you one day.”
“You can have all that with an HIV-positive partner,” he interjected.
“Yeah, I know that. I knew that part yesterday too. What I didn’t know was how long I’d have you by my side if I decided to be with you. I didn’t know if your diagnosis meant that I’d lose you before I was ready.” I paused. “I didn’t know if I was okay with that either.”
“And now?”
I drew in a deep breath and turned to face him, one leg curling up underneath me on the couch. I met his beautiful eyes and smiled. “I know that even if it turns out that I only get four years with you, I won’t regret those four years.”
He raised an eyebrow as he shifted, his position mirroring mine. “That’s oddly specific. Something I should know?”
I laughed. It was the first time I’d laughed since he left the night before. “Not that I know of. Promise it’s not some weird psychic vision.” It was his turn to laugh. His eyes sparkled, and I felt myself fall even more in love with him. There was no way I could walk away from Aaron. “James and Henry had four years together. I asked him if he regretted it, if he’d have made a different choice knowing how it ended. He told me that he wouldn’t. So… four years.”
“What if we had more than four years?”
“Then I’d be even happier,” I told him simply. “I love you.” It was the first time I’d ever said those three little words to anyone. They weren’t as scary as I’d once thought. Not when they were being said to the right person. “I did some research. Just because you’re positive doesn’t mean that we can’t still have a long and happy relationship. It doesn’t mean that I can’t still have that future I want. With you. Because I don’t want that future with just anyone. I want it with the guy who took me to my favorite band on my birthday, even though he wasn’t a fan. I want it with the guy that made us a picnic under the stars and who always remembers the little details. I want that future with you, Aaron.”
“I love you too.”
It was the simplest answer to my verbal diarrhea, the only one I needed. I leaned forward, and he met me in the middle in a kiss that felt different. It was a kiss filled with promise of a future that I only wanted with him.