Loving Luke | muke [c]

Eight

When I was four and a half, I fell down a flight of stairs. I could still vividly remember, at 22 years old, the way my heart seemed to sink to the pit of my stomach the second I realised I had slipped and there was no way I'd be able to hold onto something and not fall. I still remembered the feeling of the steps hitting my legs and arms and back as I curled up into a tiny ball to protect my head. I didn't know that hitting my head could be extremely dangerous at that time, but it was my natural instinct to just protect it. I remembered the feeling of finally reaching the bottom of the stairs and the sudden quiet around me as I lay on the ground, motionless. That was the earliest memory I had of my childhood.

What I remembered most, however, was not the pain on my arms and legs and the large bruises that formed throughout the hours and days to come. It was the unbearable pain that originated from my mouth. I could taste blood in it and I could tell something was wrong. There was a gap where one of my front teeth should have been. I cried when I realised my tooth was gone, I cried because I was in pain and I cried because no one had seen me fall and no one was there to help me before it happened. But I knew my mother had heard me falling because she was running down the stairs in a heartbeat, calling out my name in a strained voice that made me feel bad. I felt bad for falling and hurting myself, because that was hurting my mother.

She sat me up slowly, moving my arms and legs to make sure nothing was broken and she put up some fingers to make sure I didn't have a concussion. I was fine. Until she asked me a question and I was forced to open my mouth to answer her and my tooth fell out covered in blood. To me, that was the worst thing that could've happened, just seeing my tooth sitting there on my living room floor. I didn't think another tooth would grow in its place, I didn't know that would eventually happen to every singe one of my teeth. To me, that was the end. I would forever be the weird kid that missed a tooth, and no matter how many times my mother told me it would be fine, I couldn't bring myself to believe in what she said. I thought she only said that to get me to stop crying.

I didn't want to go out to play without my tooth; I didn't want people to look at me differently and laugh at me. I didn't want them to point at me and whisper to their friends that I was a freak, that I was missing a tooth. Especially because it was something that was out of my control. If I knew I was going to fall down that staircase, I couldn't have gone down it in the first place.

But Luke came over one day, asking me if I wanted to go out and play. I told him no, and when he asked me why, I made him promise he wouldn't stop being my friend and that he wouldn't tell anyone or laugh at me. I showed him my missing tooth and he smiled. He told me it was really cool and that he wished he didn't have a tooth either. He held my hand and told me I'd be the coolest kid in the playground and got me to go out and play. I wasn't the coolest kid in the playground: I was laughed at and pointed at. But Luke was there, by my side, acting like nothing was happening around us. He told me he liked my gap and that it made me different from everyone else. From that day on, I realised just how much I loved my gap, and how much I loved my friendship with Luke.

He was there for me when I suffered the consequences of something I couldn't control. He was there when I felt like I was different from everyone else, that no one understood what I was going through. He told me it was okay, that I was cool and that he wouldn't stop being my friend because of my gap. I wasn't going to stop being Luke's friend because of HIV. Maybe the two things aren't exactly similar, but the principle is pretty much the same. I would be there for him, I would stand by his side and ignore the negativity that came from around us. Because Luke loved my gap, and I loved Luke. Luke loved me despite my flaw, and I loved Luke despite anything.

"What do you want, again?" Ashton asked as we entered the quiet café.

"Just get me an iced tea, please." I said quietly as I trailed behind him, crossing my arms over my chest as Ash stood by the counter. I listened as Ashton asked for our drinks to go, wondering why we weren't sitting at the café and having our drinks there. But I didn't say anything, mostly because I was in no mood to question or argue with Ashton when he was the one paying.