The Plague

1

"Let's watch a film. Check the paper if it's anything good out." Louis said but I hesitated.

He noticed.
"Oh, come on! It's not airborne! We can watch a fucking film at the cinema."

I sighed but nodded my head and opened the entertainment section of The Times.
"Ehm, Jaws 3, E.T. is still showing. Staying Alive?"

Louis burst out laughing. Only he could see the humor in it and I loved him for it.
"Suitable title. What's it about?"

"Well, it's John Travolta and he's dancing." I began.

Louis held up his hand.
"Say no more. We're watching Staying Alive."

I agreed. We needed this. Yesterday we attended yet another funeral. Our friend Greg passed away from the disease. His family told everyone it was prostate cancer. It was common we had noticed. Aids, yeah we had a name for it now, anyway, aids was shameful. It was a big neon sign that told everyone about the deceased sexuality, something a lot of families wouldn't admit out loud.

Good men died but even death didn't free them from the secret forced upon them. Funerals became our new social gathering. Louis coped by using his humor. Whenever another one of our friends died he kissed my forehead and said
"You'd better dust off that old black skirt again, dear."

When we finally got the answer to how the disease spread another wave of panic hit the community. Unprotected sex. I had only slept with Louis so to me it was a relief, at least until Louis admitted that he had unprotected sex before he met me. His face was so pale and I could see the fear in his eyes. I tried to be pragmatic.
"Then we'll have to get you tested."

Most gay men we knew didn't get tested because they feared the result. They rather not know and live their life until they couldn't anymore. Louis was no exception. He refused at first, at least until I broke down crying, telling him that I had to know. That I was so afraid that he would get ill that I couldn't sleep at night.

We went to the hospital together and we both got tested. If Louis had it, I would too. A part of me wished that we hadn't when I got to experience firsthand how the hospital staff treated us. They were scared. I understood that. We were scared too. Masks, gloves, and protective clothing for a simple blood test. Blood is life. That's the saying. Now blood was on everyone's horror list.

We had to wait a couple of weeks for the result. As we left the hospital we walked past the Aids wing. I stopped and looked through the glass window. Years filled my eyes. Skeletons, in unimaginable pain, withering away and they were all alone. No one was sitting by their bedside, holding their hands. They were the ones no one spoke about.
"Lou..." I gasped.

"I know." Louis said emotionally and took my hand.

That image stayed with me while we waited for our results. Would we be just another statistic? Dying, alone in a sterile hospital? Would our families lie at our funerals, telling everyone we had prostate cancer?

When the result came in the mail we just sat at our kitchen table for a long while before we finally opened our letters. I skimmed through mine, scared senseless. I let out a breath of relief. I didn't have aids.

I looked up just to find Louis crying.
"No." I gasped.

"No, I don't have it. These are tears of relief. I'm sorry I scared you." Louis said and I hugged him tightly.

We would be okay. We would live. Somehow that felt unfair to our friends that caught the disease. They deserved to live too.