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 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 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