The Epilogue: Words Hurt

Apparently, there was a lot left to be said. After a cool down period of a few weeks, where we would text here and there, we finally spoke again. He called me one night after one of his gigs. I could tell he was drinking and smoking his cigar. He usually couldn’t tell me how he really felt until after a drink or two. He was like George in that way.

After some small talk, I told him I felt the relationship had become a distraction from what I needed to be doing to move my life forward and we were just stuck in these repeating patterns. He thanked me for “shitting on him” when we last spoke because I told him he may not be undetectable this soon after starting his meds. I let him know that I was praying for him, his growth and his health. I just didn’t want him to be disappointed or discouraged if he didn’t attain an undetectable status immediately. He then went on this long rant about how he was a different kind of musician because he had also majored in marketing. OK.

He wanted me to know that he had been working on his music and felt better, but he also couldn’t have any distractions. After reading what I wanted in a man, he felt he wasn’t that and could never be that, therefore I was a distraction because, in his opinion, I was imposing something on him he couldn’t live up to and so I was taking away from his music. At this point he was so inebriated I couldn’t understand anything else he had to say, but I surely got the message.

We spoke a few days later while I was in Miami. For some reason, we always called each other when one of us was out of town. I guess old habits are hard to break. I let him know that I never would want to be a distraction to what God has planned for him. Of course, he started back tracking and saying that’s not what he meant. He only meant that he couldn’t be the man that I wanted. Fair enough.

A few weeks after that he called to let me know that he had gone to his doctor's appointment. As it turned out, he was undetectable. I congratulated him on his success. He wanted to get another HIV test since the doctor had given him that news. For the life of me I couldn’t figure out why he wanted to be tested again. It wasn’t until the next day that it occurred to me that he thought being undetectable would mean his HIV test would now be negative. At the risk of “shitting on him” again, I explained what it meant to be undetectable - reduced virus in the blood – and that he would always test positive because the HIV test looks for antibodies and unless and until there is a cure, he will always have antibodies to the virus.

He took the news well and we continued talking. I even went to two of his performances. And that’s where the good feelings ended. At one of those performances I felt disrespected by an interaction between him and one of his female friends. So as we usually do, we argued. And the argument turned nasty. We rehashed old and recent grievances. He threw in my face that I had not been in a relationship in the last 6 years and I threw back that he hadn’t been able to keep a relationship in that same time period. He said it was because no one had really peaked his interest like his ex-wife, and maybe he should let her know since now they were on speaking terms after performing together. I told him to go right ahead and hung up the phone. He continued to text and call and I continued to send him to voicemail. Eventually, I answered the phone and asked him to stop calling me.

He did, but then called the next day to apologize for the way he had spoken to me. He wanted us to talk. I said I didn’t have anything left to say, but I would give him the opportunity to voice what he needed to get out. In an effort to spare my girls any more of my yelling, I agreed to meet him at his house after dinner so we could finish this.

I really could have stayed at home and not heard another word he had to say. It was just more of the same bullshit. He told me he valued me as friend and a person. I said I couldn’t tell. He kept talking and asking me questions. With a smirk on his face, he repeatedly asked me, “Well, what do you think you are to me?”

It seemed like he thought he was pulling some kind of secret out of me. It was so ridiculous. I finally said, “Your ex”.

“So when you came over in March that was to break up with me?” He asked.

“Yes. We’ve been through this.” I replied.

“But you were never my girlfriend.” He said smugly swirling his wine in a snifter glass. “I never asked you to be my girl. I merely said that I thought you were the woman I could spend the rest of my life with, but I was trying to get to know you by dating you.”

“So we’re back in high school now!? Because you didn’t ask will you go with me, or pass me a note to check yes or no, we weren’t together? You know you can say some stupid ass...” I stopped myself from going down that rabbit hole with a wave.

“None of what you just said makes sense. But I tell you what, if I was never your girl then we can just end this conversation right now. And you can take my name off your emergency contacts.”

“When I called you last week to tell you I was undetectable you didn’t even come celebrate with me. You just said congratulations. Tasarah said if you were really my girl, if you were any kind of woman, you would have just told me to put on a condom and had sex with me, even before I was undetectable.”

“Really? You want to bring that bitch up right now. For all I know, she was the one who gave you HIV. Because she couldn’t be your woman, she’s settling for the role of ‘bestie’ and in your ear every chance she gets. Tell her I will gladly give up the reins and she can take that chance since that’s what the both of you want.”

I got my things together and got up to leave. He grabbed me around my waist and kept telling me that he knew me, and I would be back just like before. Clearly he didn’t know me as well as he thought. This time, he hurt me to my core. There was no coming back from this.

It’s been a year since he told me he was positive. It has taken me this whole year to get over, go around, and just deal with all of everything I have been going through. I’ve had to come to terms with me and why I was so willing to move the boundaries over and over again in our 6 years of non-relationship. I am by no means a victim. I am the only person who is responsible and accountable for my well-being. I am no longer willing to turn that power over to someone else.

I haven’t been dating. I haven’t really had the time, but I also wanted to be absolutely sure that I was negative before I became involved with anyone else. I’ve had several HIV tests, the last one this past September. All, thankfully, have been negative. It didn’t even occur to me, until my GYN brought it up, that I had not been tested for other things since he told me. Thankfully, those tests were negative as well.

Since our last confrontation, we’ve seen each other out a few times, but we don’t really speak. Although he knew I would be writing this blog, he wanted me to take it down after the third post he was so afraid someone would figure out who he was. I refused. He accused me of trying to out him. I reminded him that if I wanted to do that I could have when he first told me, but I didn’t and I won’t. I still maintain I am able to keep his secret while at the same time telling my story. I have finally found my voice and I refuse to be silent again.

Part X

The End

There was so much going on in our lives at the time, it took me a while to get around to that conversation. I helped him sign up for health insurance through the ACA exchange. That night was painful and took quite a while to go through the different policy options to find one that he could afford and offered decent benefits. I also helped him sign up for free meds through Gilead. That process was much simpler. He eventually got on the ADAP waiting list and secured his care at the health department by lying about his insurance status. I understood why he did it. He was afraid of being dropped from care and having to find another clinic that would take him with insurance, and he was afraid of the co-pay, but I disagreed with his tactics.

I became increasingly frustrated with our relationship. We argued about everything it seemed. Although he tried to smooth things over by celebrating my birthday with me and buying me things, we always came back to the same sticking point, his selfishness. In one of our conversations he asked me, “What are YOU going to do to keep ME from cheating?” One would think that after all he had gone through in that short span of time, cheating would be the last thing on his mind.

After I stopped screaming in my head, I was able to calmly say, “I’m not going to do anything. Cheating is a choice. Of course, if you felt that what I was doing wasn’t enough, I would hope that you would tell me, upfront, that you wanted to be with someone else so that we could just end it there.”

That wasn’t the end of the conversation. We would come back to it in other arguments. In between, we tried to put on a good face in public when we went out to friends’ parties or if I was at his gigs. I’m not sure who we were trying to save face for, them or ourselves, but we put on quite the show. Not to say we were always unhappy, but the tension between us lay just beneath surface. It was only a matter of time before one of us snapped.

I attended his show the day before I had to drive to Miami for my sister’s funeral. A few nights before, he had come over and entertained my girls while I packed our bags. When he was on stage at his performance, we would catch each other’s eye every so often. On his breaks, he was very attentive and wanted to hold my hand and kiss. When I got ready to leave, he held me so long someone yelled that we needed to get a room. It reminded me of how we used to be at Zona’s when he performed there, before things got so crazy. The next day he called me every hour while I was driving those 10 hours to make sure I was ok. It felt good and I was able to relax a little until we discussed the night before and he told me he was so affectionate because his ex, my nemesis, was there and he was trying to make a past incident we all had right. I felt like once again he had pulled the rug out from under me and tainted something that actually felt good for me and could have been good for us.

I spent the week trying to figure out how to tell him it was over and each time I talked myself out of it. I had decided that it wasn’t a good time to make decisions. I was tired, stressed and emotional so I just needed to hold off on saying anything.

But I did say things out of anger or frustration. I would tell him that he was immature, selfish, lacking in emotional intelligence or as shallow as a cesspool. I told him I had a hard time picturing myself with someone who was lazy and spent most of his time watching TV, or on YouTube drinking every night. I needed someone with goals and a plan I could get behind and support.

We argued about him not using his skymiles to fly me to NYC for Valentine’s Day to be with him while he worked there that week. I could no longer afford to pay for my own ticket because I had to fly my son from school to Miami for the funeral. He didn’t want to use his miles because he thought it might jeopardize his precious gold status and his guitars would have to go in the undercarriage as opposed to the overhead bin. It was the same story, different year. So when we did celebrate Valentine’s Day the week after, the night was tense. I could tell he was upset, but he wasn’t really talking. When he did speak, it was to comment on the women walking through the door of the restaurant, or to make some comment about how I needed to be butt-naked the next time I came to his house. The references to me being naked or wearing heels and a t-shirt when I saw him were on my last nerve. After enduring the after dinner silent treatment, I asked him to take me home.

It took me being convicted by my own words from a previous blog post and a sermon at church to make me finally confront what I was avoiding. I recognized that I was not being fair to myself or to him, so I shared the blog with him. He questioned if I really thought such a man existed, and if he did why wasn’t I with him. I countered that I did think he was out there. I saw examples every day within my family and circle of friends, but I hadn’t met the guy or if I did I hadn’t noticed because I had been involved with him in some form or fashion for the last six years.

Days later I was at church and the sermon was about keeping it moving towards your destiny, remaining obedient, walking by faith and trusting God even when you don’t know the outcome. I knew right then I had to end this relationship. I wasn’t in it for the right reasons. I was in it because of ego, comfort and lack of faith. And I certainly wasn’t being obedient. I was acting in desperation.

After church I went to his house so we could talk, honestly talk, about what we knew to be true, but were afraid to admit. We were not working as a couple. He did not take too kindly to me showing up without calling. I knew he would just be getting up. I wasn't wrong. He thought I was trying to catch him with another woman; that wasn’t even a thought. I also knew that if I didn’t go right then, I would talk myself out of doing what I knew I should.

We went round for round, but I told him how I felt. I wasn’t happy and I just didn’t want to argue any more. I thought we needed to work on developing intimacy outside of the bedroom, but he wanted sex and his constant asking made me feel more like an object than like a person. He thought I should have been able to compartmentalize my hurt and feelings of betrayal and wear the heels and t-shirt or be naked so that he “could feel like a man again”. I took a deep sigh and gave up the argument.

He thanked me for telling him in person as opposed to text or email and held his fist out for a fist bump. I was outdone. I reiterated my feelings on his immaturity and lack of humility and left. What else could be said?

IX

The Moment You Realize 'This Ain't What You Want'

We were in this relationship now. Since we no longer had sex to fall back on, we were getting to know each other outside of the bedroom. What is the saying, be careful what you ask for? Although I had (or thought I had) wanted to be in a relationship with him for the last two years, I had not envisioned it being this way. He, on the other hand, seemed to have given it plenty of thought. He had ideas about how we would split up chores and time with the children, and of course there was that baby he had been wanting. He also had this weird idea of us being married or in a committed relationship, but not living together. Where they do that at?

For my part, I discovered I really didn’t like being called all day every day. Give me some time to miss you! He didn’t really watch the news, so I couldn’t discuss politics or world events with him. He spent most of his time alone, with his mom, or talking with his best friend. And his days revolved around his TV shows, unless he had a performance. The conversation was getting stale, and I got quiet. He felt I wanted him to entertain me, but really I was just bored. Somehow over the years I had missed that his topics of conversation mostly revolved around 5 things: cheating, women and our faults, his motorcycle, music, and his health. He was taking his blood pressure and temperature every hour since his diagnosis and asking what I thought any slight change might mean. Although, I am not a doctor, but work in public health research, he has always called me to get my opinion on any and everything that he thought could be an issue. It was starting to annoy me.

I spent Christmas with my children and he spent Christmas with his mother all the while continuing his streak of excessive calling. “If you’re going to call this much, you might as well come over,” I told him. But he didn’t and I went on to enjoy my time with my children. And then one by one they left me to finish out their holiday break with friends or family. I had been asking for some alone time but I never like being without my children during the holidays, but I was just going to have to make the best of it.

He invited me to his New Year’s Eve gig. I almost didn't go because of a mix up with my oldest daughter’s plans. He called his mother and his sister to find out if one of them could watch her because he wanted his kiss at midnight. They both agreed, but my daughter was not too interested in spending NYE with strangers and so made other plans to hang out with one of her friends.

After attending church services with my daughter, I met up with a girlfriend and brought her along to keep me company while he played. She and I sat at the bar and made fast friends with the couple next to us. We ate and had drinks while we watched the 20-something crowd circulate through the lobby of the hotel on their way to the club. Oh the days, of clubbing. Now, I was the ‘older woman’ wondering where that child was going in that dress or how long that girl expected to stay in those shoes. When did I become the older chic at the bar passing judgement?

In between sets we took group pictures and ‘couple’s pictures’. He and I snuck away from prying eyes to have a little alone time before they went back on. They played until the countdown to midnight; “10, 9. 8. 7, 6...,” everyone yelled in unison. He motioned for me to come over and as the clock struck midnight we kissed. Such the cliché, but I was hoping that maybe it could be the beginning of a new chapter together. Soon after, my girlfriend and I left. I texted him to let him know I had made it home and he called me later once he was home. I didn’t realize how sleepy I was and ended up falling asleep on him while on the phone.

On New Year’s Day I cooked the traditional meal: fish, greens, black eyed peas. He was late arriving, which pissed me off since in the process of trying to keep the food warm the fish got over cooked. I am a woman serious about my craft and I do not like serving an unworthy dish. When I opened the door, he brought in his guitar and a bag big enough to hold his whole house. He ate up my food like it was the best thing ever so I didn’t worry too much about the overcooked fish. Afterward, we went to the store and when we returned, I cleaned up the kitchen, he took out the trash and we settled in for a night of movies. Then around 1am, he abruptly decided he needed to go home.

“What? This was supposed to be our time together and your first night staying over here.” I said.

“I know, but you know I’m just not that comfortable staying at someone else’s house.” He said.

“Really? Well, I’ve told you I’m not all that thrilled about being at your house in the cigar smoke sharing space with the inches of dust all over everything, but I did it anyway. And we discussed this! If you weren’t staying why did you bring all this stuff? Why did you have me drive you to the store because you forgot your toothbrush?”

“Because I wanted to be comfortable while I was here. And I needed to brush my teeth after I ate, just in case.”

"Just in case what?" I asked. I walked over and opened the door for him to leave. “Good bye.”

He walked over and grabbed my waist, “Don’t be like that. I’ll call you when I get home.”

I started attending the CLEAR (Choosing Life: Empowerment! Action! Results!) counseling sessions the HIV counselor had recommended for me. I was hoping it would help me to understand the choices I had made in the past and present, so that I could make better choices in the future. We discussed the pros and cons of my relationship. The counselor suggested I write them down and have a conversation with him about what I wrote, as well as about this hypothetical situation of two separate households. The counselor also suggested I really think about what I wanted in a partner and a relationship and whether or not that was what I was getting.

I went home and wrote out my lists. I started with what I wanted in a relationship. I had plenty to write about. Then I wrote out the cons of our relationship. Again, I had plenty to write about it, but when I got to the pros I had less than 10 things on the list. I left the door open for me to come back and write more. After all, I wanted to be fair.

VIII

The Decision

I never got proof of Tasarah’s test results, and he probably never asked. I decided to let it go and just focus on taking care of me. It was the holiday season and I had a lot on my plate. In the meantime, he was calling me every hour on the hour, and if I didn’t answer, he would just call back every 5-15 minutes. It got to the point where even the kids were irritated each time my phone rang. I decided I had had enough and I needed to get out and do something for me.

I went to my favorite Friday night hang out. I hadn’t been there in a while and I needed to see my people and have a drink, or maybe two or three. It felt good walking in and seeing smiling faces and feeling the love from the crew. Dang, how long had it been since we had all gotten together?

Somewhere around my second drink I spotted George. He had been coming here probably as long, if not longer than I had. One night I was standing at the door with my girls and I saw him at the bar with several women around him. I had seen him before posted up at the bar a different woman each time. He stood out because he was pretty much the only white guy in the place on a Friday night, so I was curious. “Who’s the older white guy with all the black women?” I asked Kelly. “Oh, that’s George. He’s a really nice guy.” She replied while dancing. I didn’t speak to him that night, but a few months later when I was there celebrating my birthday, the band announced that he was also celebrating his birthday. I went over and wished him a happy birthday and we hit it off from there. We actually had a lot in common so from time to time we would go to dinners and football games, or make plans to meet each other at Zona’s. Since that introduction, we made it a point to celebrate our birthdays together.

George was sitting at the bar talking with a woman. They appeared to be together so it was my intention to just say hello and keep it moving, but that didn’t quite happen. He was keeping her company until her girls arrived and we, instead, had a long conversation about ‘us’. I told him that I saw the picture of him and the woman at the last Falcons game. That took us down a rabbit hole I wasn’t expecting. My sister had already told me that I needed to get over myself and not say anything to him about it, but I’m not exactly known for holding my tongue. He told me that he knew I had feelings for someone else, but he loved me and if I would just give him a sign that he had a chance with me, he would drop everyone else and be there. His sincerity made me want to cry. He was genuinely an all-around good guy. Why couldn’t I love him the way that he loved me? Clearly, I had some sort of feelings for him because I was jealous when I saw that someone else was giving him attention. At the same time, I had all this shit going on with dude and I didn’t want to involve George in that. I wanted him to be happy and if the girl in the picture made him happy, then that’s who he should be with, and I told him as much. That didn’t stop him from buying my drinks and a to-go order of shrimp to take home to my daughter. He was thoughtful like that. He always asked how my son was doing in college, and when we went out, would make sure that I took something back for my girls. Unfortunately, I could never give him my all because of a few reasons, not the least of which was the fact that I was dealing with this one over here.

On my way home, I called him. It was time for me to make a decision, piss or get off the pot. We talked for hours about the status of our relationship. The conversation was intense. We were clearly not exclusive, and our situation was now complicated by his status. We both had expectations, although he would like to believe that his maleness prevented him from being able to formulate such things. However, when he asked how I saw our relationship going and I didn’t answer in the manner he wanted, he became upset. He went on for at least an hour telling me how I should have answered his question. Clearly, he had an expectation. After another hour, we finally agreed that we were saying the same things, we just expressed them differently. Soon after, I went to bed. I needed to get some sleep so I could be on time for my massage appointment.

That massage was everything. Those 50 minutes were the most relaxing 50 minutes I had had in the last two weeks. I wished it didn’t have to end. Before I left, I made sure to book my next session. I ran some errands and then went to his house. When we went to the clinic he had asked if we could spend some uninterrupted time together. It took a couple of weeks, but I arranged for my children to spend the weekend with their godfather so I could spend the weekend with him.

Over dinner, we recapped the phone conversation now that we were both fully awake and sober, to be sure that we were on the same page. And we were. We both wanted a supportive, caring, long-term relationship. We spent the rest of the night cuddled up on the sofa intermittently watching TV and talking. While we talked, he would sometimes pace the floor as he sipped on a glass of wine and smoked a cigar. He was fearful and somewhat remorseful about the decisions he had made. He told me he was afraid that one of the women would out him once she was contacted by the health department. He asked if I thought he should post his status on Facebook first. I told him he didn’t need to do that. He still needed to be able to work and I didn’t think any of the women would out him anyway since outing him would out them.

I asked him pointed questions about his behavior and why he did what he did and he opened up to me about things in his past. He confided in me that he really didn’t like himself and even considered suicide since his diagnosis. I told him he should really go to the counseling session at the health department or find a private counselor who could help him. My heart went out to him.

“Before you walked into the club that night, I was thinking about how I was going to tell you. I mean, I knew I had to tell you, but I wasn’t ready when I saw you walk in the door. I wanted to wait until Monday when you could do something about it.”

“Thank God for Saturday testing sites.” I interrupted.

“Why do you think you didn’t test positive?” He asked me.

I didn’t hesitate, “Grace, plain and simple. I ask God every day, or almost every day, to protect me and my children from harm seen and unseen. This was the unseen harm.”

He silently sipped on his wine and puffed on his cigar as if he were mulling that over in his mind. “You should have been pregnant.” He said from out of the blue.

“What are you talking about? Last summer?” He had been asking me to have his child for some years, and I had always said no because the situation wasn’t right. We weren’t in a relationship then, and we were nowhere close to getting married. I was already a single mother to three children. I had no desire to add another child to the mix. And then we had “the scare” after seeing each other after one of my trips overseas. “Do you really think that would have made a difference?” I asked.

He shook his head yes. He thought that if I had become pregnant that would have changed him and his life course and we would not be dealing with this diagnosis now. I wasn’t as confident. I felt having a child would have just increased the number of people affected.

The next day we lounged around and he played some of his new music for me. The songs weren’t complete, but there was one in particular that gave me chills when he played it. I told him that one would be his number one hit, his moneymaker. He said it was inspired by me. Of course, that made me feel good. We smiled at each other, and then he looked thoughtful.

“If you're still negative three months from now, will you leave me?”

“I’m not going to leave you because I’m negative. If I leave you, it will be because of something else.”

VII

The Phone Session

I saw my counselor. Outside of journaling, in her presence is the only place I can tell my whole story without fear of judgement or being told what to do. I may not always like what she says, but in the end I know she’s right. She also has a way of verbalizing my feelings when I can’t.

She teared up when I explained to her what I had been going through since learning he was positive. She was yet another person in my life who did not believe he deserved anything from me, but she told me she knew my heart and she knew that I loved him. I’m glad she knew, because from hour to hour, day to day, I didn’t know how I felt. I was so very confused. As usual, we ended the session with her telling me to be gentle with me.

I left my counseling session and went to his house to support him in telling Tasarah the news. He was so sweet and different, it made me a little uncomfortable. I looked at him like he had two heads when he went to kiss me on my cheek. It was getting late, and it was a week night. I didn’t have time for games. I just wanted to get the conversation with her over so I could go back home.

He called her and left a message. By the time she called back I was getting ready to go. When he told her, she acted like she was shocked and stunned, but then she said the strangest thing. She said, “What if I’m positive and I gave it to you?” Huh? Why would she say that? And how are you 50 something and you don’t know your status? Well, he was 49 and he just found out his, so I guess folks just sleep around unprotected without getting checked. She also seemed really surprised when he told her that I was negative. She wanted to know how that was possible. Excuse me? I was the youngest one in the room and far from being an angel, but I get tested on the regular, even though for the past 3 years he was my ONLY partner. She asked more questions and we answered them as best we could. After we got off the phone with Tasarah, he told me that she works with the AIDS Drug Assistance Program (ADAP) in her current position. So my question was why did she seem so clueless?

As I got ready to leave, I expressed to him that he now has someone else he could talk to about what he’s going through. He became panicked and asked if I was saying I didn’t want to talk to him anymore. If I had had any kind of sense, I would have said that’s exactly what I meant, but instead I said no, I would still be there and I just meant he has one more person in his support circle.

I kept trying to leave, and he kept coming up with reasons to keep me there. He continued to tell me how much he cared for me and knew I was the one for him.

I asked, “So if I mean so much to you, why haven’t you told me this before? Why is it that now that you have this diagnosis I have all of sudden become so important to you?”

“I was already feeling this way,” he replied.

“Really? But you never expressed it until now. If it is true, your timing sucks. Can you not see how I might not be able to believe you right now? Your admission seems awfully self-serving.”

He didn’t understand. But I needed to get home and get ready for work the next day so I left without trying to explain any further or allowing him to hug me goodbye. I didn’t want to be touched, not by him, not at that moment.

Everything about Tasarah and that conversation didn’t sit well with me. In the following days she gave him a different story about when she was going to be tested each time they talked. After a few days, she finally told him she had tested negative. Of course, he took Tasarah at her word, but I was still skeptical. I needed proof.

VI

Good Lovin'

This is a #TBT from way back. Some of you who knew me from the other site will recognize this...

Have you ever had that good loving I mean really good loving that made you just want to shout, or hum or sing?

That kind of loving that made you want to tell everyone that you spoke to about it?

I've had that kind of loving

Everything was perfect from the layout of the room to the smell of his cologne

The way he touched my body sent walls crumbling and I could feel ME

The real me coming back to life after years of being hidden beneath LIFE and all that brings

The sensual, sexy, soft me

The adventurous me

The me that wants to please my partner just as much as I want to be pleased

We spent time caressing each other, massaging away whatever stressors we may have had on the other side of the door

Listening to each other breathe, head to chest, wrapped up in each other; Just breathing together

Taking it all in

Thinking, but not thinking

Then a hand brushes against a thigh, caresses a cheek, and our heartbeats increase

Lips seek out lips

Legs wrap around legs

Backs arch

Hips grind

Fingers tantalize

Words are whispered

Positions change

Breath is lost

Bodies tense

The time/space dimension is shattered

Bodies relax

Breathing slows

Legs wrap around legs

Lips seek out lips

A hand brushes against a thigh, caresses a cheek

The Day After

I went from being mad at him to being mad at me. I saw this coming and I stayed, fought to be in it.

Although it was a Saturday night, I decided to stay home because I just couldn’t bear being around other people. He also canceled his plans and came over because he didn’t want to be around anyone else, but didn’t want to be alone either. We watched a movie, discussed my test results and talked more about the women he had been with over the last several months. One in particular was familiar to me. I remembered him mentioning her name, Tsarah, a few years ago. She had called him while we were on our way home from a movie and he told her he was with me and would have to call her back. At the time he told me they were just friends. Now, he was telling me that she had moved here this past summer to be with him and when that didn’t work out and she couldn’t find a job, she moved back to PA. Apparently, she went to see him at his show during the weekend he met my brother. She was now among the names on the list that he had to provide to the clinic so that they could be contacted. I asked him if he would have told me about all of these excursions had he not tested positive. He said no. I was so mad my eyebrows started jumping involuntarily. I reminded him of the many arguments we had had in the past when I would ask him if and who he was sleeping with besides me and pointed out that situations like this are why it mattered. This shit comes back around and it affects not just him and me, but my family as well. I just wanted him to leave.

I refused his calls the next day. I didn’t have anything good or positive to say, and I really didn’t have the energy to hold a conversation. Through text he asked if I would still go to the clinic with him when he went back for his additional tests. I said yes. I needed to go. I needed to hear and see for myself that he had indeed tested positive. I was experiencing some sort of cognitive dissonance and it wouldn’t allow me to wrap my mind around the reality of the truth. What I would not agree to was him telling the other women himself with me on the phone supporting him. No sir! Let DIS handle that.

On Monday, I woke up mad and ready to cry, but I held it together until I dropped my daughters off at school. I came back home and went back to bed until he called to say he was on his way. When he got to my house, I asked him again if he had given me the names of everyone he had slept with; I didn’t want any more surprises. He gave me their names again. Some were familiar, some were not. I let him know that I was hurting and I would probably ask him the same questions over and over again and he would just have to deal with it. Some days might be good and some days I may want to ring his neck. Hell, my mood might swing from moment to moment because my emotions were all over the place, and he would just have to deal with it. He said he understood.

We left for the clinic. I was really hoping he could go somewhere I knew fewer people, but the other option was not accepting new patients. So we went where I had a working relationship and could possibly be noticed. I helped him complete the intake forms and agreed to be listed as his emergency contact. He asked whom should he say I was. I told him to put that I was his friend. (That would later be used against me.) I had helped to develop some of the forms used in the Atlanta Ryan White system. I wasn’t supposed to be filling them out.

In all these years, we never discussed in detail how much money we made, but there I was helping him sort through his check stubs and payments, social security number and all, to be able to accurately report his income. I also had his ID and proof of residence there in my hands. I would be lying if I said I didn’t have some devious thoughts to cross my mind holding on to this information.

While we were waiting to be called, I had him grab some of the free condoms, dental dams, and brochures the clinic had sitting out. He asked why. I told him for his future. When the nurse called his number he asked if I could go back with him, but she said no so I stayed in the waiting area while he completed more forms, answered more questions, had more blood drawn and tests done.

When he came out, he introduced me to the DIS who would be making the contacts. I informed her that I had tested negative over the weekend, but would be going back to be retested. As luck would have it, someone else who works at the clinic that I knew from my work walked by as we were talking and recognized me. She has never spoken to me, but at that moment she decided to come over and ask if I was ok and if I needed anything. I told her I was fine...nosy.

After the other staff person left, the DIS and I explained to him again that it would not be a good idea for him to make the contacts and that he should let her do that. She was very nice and patient and answered all of his questions and helped him set up his next appointment. She also encouraged him to go to counseling. He said he would think about it.

My intention for going to the clinic with him was really to help me process that this was real. I saw it. I met the staff person who was helping him, and yet I was still hoping that his results would come back negative, and that the first tests were false-positives. I know. Denial was alive and well. Good thing I was able to schedule a counseling appointment for myself for the next day.

V

The Results

It was after 6am when he and I finally got off the phone. I tried to sleep, but couldn’t so at 8am I got up and called my big sis and told her about my night. She was upset. She never liked him for me anyway, but she also asked if she needed to call a bondsman. I told her no, no one got hurt. My sister didn’t believe me, but I assured her I had been on my best behavior. She helped me look online for somewhere I could get tested on a Saturday. I called a couple of sites to verify that they were open. When I found one that was, I got dressed to leave. It was 9am.

It felt odd being on the other side of the table answering the risk questions. I ask almost identical questions of the participants that I interview on a daily basis. I knew I had tested negative at my annual visit a few months ago, but my responses looked bad. Even I had to shake my head.

The counselor took me to the testing room and pricked my finger. We would know the results in a few short minutes. Of course, it didn’t seem so short to me, but the counselor did his best to keep things upbeat.

He brought me back to the counseling room and asked how I thought I had done. I didn’t know. I just wanted the results so I could stop holding my breath. He told me that I was negative and showed me the test to prove it. He told me that they don’t normally do that, but because we were both pretty sure I would be positive, he wanted me to see the proof. To say I felt relieved is an understatement. Before I left, he advised that because my last sexual encounter had only been a week before the test I would need to get retested in 3 months. He also said it would not be a bad idea to get tested monthly during that time, just to be safe and to know as soon as possible if there was a change in my status. He then asked if I would like to attend counseling sessions for people at high risk for HIV infection. I said sure and left with the flyer. I probably would have agreed to anything in that moment to be honest.

On my drive home, I called my sister to let her know the results and then called a friend. E and I have our arguments and see the world very differently, but when it comes to particular things we absolutely get each other and I knew this would be something he could handle. He’s also been there from day one, so he already knew the history of my relationship. I did ask him not to come with his “I told you so’s”. He asked some questions, but he mostly just listened.

When I got back home, the reality of the situation started to sink in and the tears started rolling. I was thankful that my children weren’t at home. I found myself in bed, eating Coconut Dream cookies in between crying and staring at the game on TV.
The person I was dating cheated. He tested positive for HIV. I could still test positive for HIV. If I do, how will my life change? What will I tell my children? Will I tell my friends, family, co-workers or none at all? What will happen with our relationship? Did I really mean it when I said I had his back, or was that just a knee-jerk reaction? For six years I have shown up for this guy and for six years he has been a selfish asshole. Why should I continue to show up for him?

So many questions. So many tears.

IV

The Reaction

I laughed, waiting for him to tell me he was just messing with me. When he didn’t say anything, I yelled, “Stop playing!” He told me he wasn’t playing and explained to me that he had received his results from a testing facility and then went to the health department earlier that day to be retested. The original results were confirmed. He had to go back the next week for a TB test and to have his blood drawn for the other tests that needed to be completed. I was still waiting for him to tell me that this was a joke that he had taken too far, something to distract me from my anger, but he didn’t. He just kept saying that he was HIV+.

I was rendered speechless. All I could do was stare at him while my mind scrambled to remember how to formulate words. The fear rose up in me. My knees buckled and I had to take a seat on the edge of the bed. I thought about the time we had spent together over the last few months, and the scandalous acts we had committed. We hadn’t used protection in any of those encounters.

When I was finally able to speak and stand again, I walked over to him. His back was now to me. I wrapped my arms around him and said, “I got your back.” He turned to face me and we stood in each other’s embrace. When we separated, I looked up at him and told him, “If I’m positive, your ass is marrying me!” That made us both laugh. “I’m fucking serious!” I said. “Ok,” he replied. We then headed to the kitchen to get something to drink, and went downstairs.

We continued to talk about what made him decide to get tested now, how this could have happened, when this could have happened, and who could have given it to him. I wasn’t that convinced about his reason to get tested, but decided that the reason wasn’t important. He got tested and now we both know his status. He shared with me that while he had ‘cleared his plate’ of women here at home since we started dating, he was still sleeping with other women pretty much every time he went out of town on a gig. I felt like I had been punched in the stomach.

As he was speaking, a sense of déjà vu came over me. I remembered I had seen this conversation happening three years prior. I didn’t remember all the details, but I saw him telling me that he was positive. He must have noticed the expression on my face because he asked what I was thinking about. I told him. He was offended that I could have thought years ago that he would be telling me something like this. I reminded him that he was not innocent. We’ve talked before about his and his band mates’ whorishness, and he just said he told the DIS (disease intervention specialist) at the health department that this was actually a slow year for him! Something I didn’t find funny.

But then I had to think, what does that say about me that I not only stuck with him, but had unprotected sex with him knowing his lifestyle and his propensity to cheat.

I had become comfortable in the pattern. I thought that after all these years I knew him. Usually, when he did dirt he would wait to see me and we wouldn’t have sex. And when we did get together, he would use a condom. I wouldn’t even have to ask, I knew what it was.

He didn’t do that over these last months. He had been telling me about all these benign encounters – Such-and-Such called me, I flirted with this bartender, I ran into So-and-So and we had lunch, your arch enemy called to get with me, but I resisted. I thought we were good. All but the September gig, I had talked to him before and after every show and on some of those occasions, he was with my family members! It truly never occurred to me that he was sleeping around. Yet, he had been on some Ludacris ish and had hoes in every area code.

Now, I was angry and wanted to curse him out and start tearing up his house!

Yet, somehow I managed to press pause on that and think about what he must have been going through in this moment.

We continued talking. After a few hours, I finally found my strength and got up to leave. He walked me out and asked me to call when I got home. I drove in a mind fog. I don’t even know how I got home. I called him after I had showered and readied myself for bed. We talked another couple of hours about our relationship and his status. He was good and drunk by this time so he was comfortable telling me that of all the girls in his life, he knew that I was the one he should be with and that I was his ‘Number 1’, but he just wasn’t completely satisfied with my sex. REALLY!? This dude right here!

At that, I excused myself from the conversation and tried to get some sleep.

III

The Confession

I was stunned by his reaction. Ok, seeing me may have been a surprise, but instead of being happy to see me, he seemed angry that I was there. I couldn’t ask about it because it was time for him and the rest of the band to go back on stage. I sat at the bar and ordered a drink. Throughout their set I couldn’t really enjoy myself because I was wondering what kind of mess I had walked in on this night. Did he invite someone else out? Would this be a throwback to our early days where epic public scenes made us infamous in some circles?

I sipped on my drink while texting and checking Facebook in between listening to the bar tender chat up the couple next to me. The band finished with their set relatively early. It wasn’t even 11pm; I was used to gigs where we might not leave until 1 or 4am. He asked if I would wait. I said ok. Out the corner of my eye, I saw an older woman come from the other side of the club and stop in front of the stage. She was apparently waiting for him to walk her to her car, which he did. I sipped on another drink trying to keep my anger from rising. I couldn’t believe he had me wait for him so he could walk some other woman out the door after the “welcome” he had given me. But, she could have been a potential opportunity for future business, so I needed to stay cool and not jump to any conclusions.

When he came back in, he asked if I would follow him to his rehearsal. Again, I said ok. I was waiting for my opportunity to confront him and since rehearsal had supposedly already started, it wouldn’t take that long. I followed him in my car to the spot. We literally went from the club to the church. I sat in the front pew of the cold church exchanging text messages with him, trying to stay awake while they reran particular parts of songs over and over again. Finally, around 1am he asked if he could leave and so we did. I had planned to just go home from there, forget confronting him, I was ready to go to sleep, but once we were at our cars he asked if I would follow him to his house. I protested at first, but soon gave in. I did however, put him on notice that he would not be getting any on this night.

We were standing in his room. There was very little light. I was standing at the head of his bed. He was standing at the foot of the bed. I started to take off my boots when he said, “I went to the health department today”.
“OK, why are you going to the health department? Where’s your regular doctor?” I asked.
“Why do people go to the health department?” He asked.
I shrugged and continued taking off my boots.
“I had a blood test.” He replied.
I stopped what I was doing and looked up at him. “What do you need a blood test for?” My brain was still clueless, but by the way my heart was beating, my body knew what he was telling me without telling me. And then he dropped it on me.
“I tested positive for HIV.”

II

The Set Up

It’s been a long time, almost 6 years to be exact (six seems to be my number), since I’ve posted anything on this blog. I don’t know if anyone is still checking for Eva, but I have something to say that I hope will be helpful not only for me, but for anyone who reads it. So in my Nina Mosley voice, "I’m gonna get it out anyway".

A lot has changed since my last post in 2009, and sadly, some things have remained the same. I’ve traveled and worked internationally. Those were some awesome experiences that I hope to repeat. I haven’t had a chance or the time to be anyone’s doula since 2009, but I was recently asked to assist a friend and his wife later this year. I’m excited to be there and humbled that they asked. I have a child in college! I still have two at home, and I’m counting down the days until they leave the nest. It’s amazing to have a hand in a child’s progression into adulthood. Watching my children and their friends grow up is awe inspiring. BD2 is still, well, BD2. BD1 and I are getting along and he’s involved a whole heck of a lot more than he ever was. He’s still not paying child support, but I appreciate his involvement and emotional support. Pretty much everything in my life has improved and I finally made it to that point where I could truly say I’M HAPPY…and then this happened.

I went back through my blog to see if I ever mentioned him, and I hadn’t. I can’t believe I’ve never talked about this one. I guess even though he was around back then, he hadn’t quite made it into the circle yet.

We would see each other every time I went to hang out at my favorite Friday night spot. He spent a lot of time on his breaks chatting me up until I finally agreed to go out with him after he got off work one night. The date itself was a typical, ATL, late night head over to IHOP or Waffle House, but we had good food and good conversation. Then it was time to pay the check, and when he reached into his pocket, his wedding band fell out onto the table. Whelp, that was the end of that. I told him to hit me up when he got a divorce and I left. We still saw each other out, but we kept it to small talk. Then several months after our initial date, he told me he was divorced, which I was able to verify since so much of our lives is available online. So we exchanged numbers and for the next six years we were, hmm, in relationship. We were friends, friends with benefits, side pieces, enemies, and then friends and lovers again and again.

And then one day last year it all turned. We started going on real dates and holding hands when we were out. We were looking each other in the eye when we spoke, and the sex was the best it had ever been in the years we had been dealing with each other. It just felt different. So I asked the question, "What are we doing?" He said we were dating. He needed to get to know me from this new perspective. OK, cool. Let’s date. We spoke almost daily and saw each other every weekend he was in town. I made an effort to be more available, something I did not usually do, but I wanted to show that I was making just as much of an effort as he was. He even met one of my brothers and a sister when he had shows in their areas. I don’t think anyone since I was dating BD2 has met someone in my family.

We still had our challenges, but we were trying to work through them instead of retreating from them. That’s what prompted me to go see him play one cold, Friday night even though all I really wanted to do was lay up in my warm bed and rest. I had been feeling some distance between us since he came back from his overseas performance. We had a bit of a falling out, regarding another woman while he was away. When he returned home our conversations were short and I didn’t feel like we were connecting. It felt to me like we were just going through the motions. I realized I hadn’t been to see him play in months. Seeing him in his gift always excited me, so I got myself together and headed out hoping to recapture some of what attracted me to him in the first place.

I spotted him sitting at the bar as soon as I walked through the door way. I smiled. He was on the phone and when he saw me he looked like he had been caught. I hugged him and said hello. He, in turn, asked me what I was doing there. Needless to say, that was not the reaction I was expecting.

I