telling him

When I got home from finding out, I didn’t want to be alone.

I asked K, my roommate’s girlfriend, to stay with me. I wasn’t affected. I wasn’t mad. I wasn’t sad. I felt nothing. I had to tell my boyfriend. I had to tell S about what I knew. About the future. So, K needed to go home to grab a few things for the night. She was going to spend the night with me and when she left, I paced the house.

My phone in hand.

I walked from one end of the house to the other, trying to form the words that would spell the end to our blossoming relationship. How do you tell someone that you’ve fucked everything up? Based on a previous self. I’ve changed since this happened to me and just because I’m infected now, doesn’t mean I deserve it now.

I made a mistake a year ago that’s spelling the end to our relationship.

I dialed and waited. He had been so happy. He was stuck out of the country on a job. Unable to see me until the 17th. He was so happy. We gave each other virtual hugs all day. We were sloppy in love and beginning to feel the edge of deep and fulfilling ever after. I was quiet.

“What’s wrong?”

And, with a pre-speech about how I never lied to him. How I never wanted to hurt him. I told him. And things drew quiet. He repeated “oh my god.” He repeated my name. Digging deep into my heart. Tearing it apart. I expected him to hang up. To suddenly shut me out. Think of me as the dirty, horrible person I felt I was.

He just broke down.

I felt his fear. “I’m so scared.” For a moment, he believed maybe he could have infected me. I told him that’s crazy. He wanted to know about my past. How did I get it? “I’m so scared.” He laughed a few times. “I don’t believe it.” He just wanted to get tested. I was silent. Unemotional. “Why are you so calm?” I tried to talk. Or make sense. Or understand why the fuck I wasn’t crying. Or crawling into a ball and hiding. Why I wasn’t just grabbing for a bottle of pills. Why I didn’t feel anything.

We talked for an hour. Mostly rambled. Nothing more than exchanging fear. Me comforting him. Him telling me sorry for reacting this way. How the fuck do you react? He hung up. K came back. We watched American Idol. The results show. I was able to concentrate and laugh. It was as if – nothing was real. My life was normal.

S called back.

I sat on my bed. He had told his manager and was going to get tested in the morning. 9 a.m. I listened to him as he walked through the snow. When he was silent, I could hear it crunch below him. I heard the cars pass. Sometimes, over powering the phone. He was crying. He laughed. He told me that he didn’t understand why I was so quiet.

I didn’t know.

We sat on the phone for another hour or so. Nothing working. I just told him that his life isn’t over, if he’s positive. I remember telling him, “it’s not a death sentence.” He had to take a shower. I went to bed.

K slept in the other room. I sort of used her. Telling her thank you for staying over. I went to bed. I fell asleep quickly. I remember having a dream about using someone’s phone. I tried to check my voice mail and realized that it wasn’t like my iPhone. I remember saying to them, “ah, you don’t have visual voicemail.” They sort of rolled their eyes at me.

I woke up.

It was 6 a.m. S wouldn’t know until for another five hours. I went back to sleep. I woke up again. It was 6:45 a.m. I tried to calculate again when he’d know. I went back to sleep. I woke up again every hour, recalculating how much time it would be.

Finally, I woke up. And got up. It was 9 a.m. He’d know in two hours.

I gathered through a various array of emotions. I wanted him to be safe. To be healthy. I didn’t want him to be burdened with this too. I don’t know how he would have taken it. And then, a part of me. This selfish, horrible part of me wanted him to have it too. If he had it, we could tackle it together. We could bond and stay together. I would be OK. And in someways, my life would remain the same.

He sent me a text message at 11:30.

:: clean. i love you ::

I am alone. And this is my burden.