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