Sick

Who's Sick?

"Who's sick?" I screamed.

"That's what people are saying. They're saying you got that shit!" Marcus said, staring wildly at me.

"I ain't got nothing, I'm clean. I don't know who the fuck is telling you that but tell them bitches to keep my name out their mouth!" I yelled driving off. I pulled off so fast I'm almost certain I left skid marks down the street. Who would tell Marcus that, who would even know?

I guess I have to start from the beginning, go back two years ago to when my aunt told me I was HIV positive. My name is Xyana, and I'm 18 years old. I'm a dancer now, everyone calls me Prissy. Yes Prissy, because that's how I act. Two years ago life was good, I lived with my aunt because my mother died when I was one and my father, who's he? I've only seen my dad maybe three times since I've been old enough to recall but I'm pretty sure I look like him, with my small nose, hazel eyes and caramel colored skin. I got my hair from my mom though, a sandy red hue and brown mixture of curly coils. I'm short, like my mom but a bit taller than my family says she was. At 5'4 and 121lbs, I'm small but pleasantly plump in the right areas. A nice sized 34C chest with an ass so big, unless you knew me as a child, you'd think I got butt shots.

I remember sitting in my aunt Bia's living room, she had this light blue sofa, it sat right under the window. She'd use that same window to peek out of and see what I, or one of the neighbors were doing often. She was always in others peoples business, and a big gossip. I was 16, it was a month after my birthday exactly, February 25th. I remember sitting there, at that moment pure and innocent.

She said, "we have to talk, you're filling out and becoming a woman. I see how the boys look at you and I hear you talking to your boyfriend."

Smiling brightly all of my pearly whites showing, I giggled, "AUNTY!"

"Baby you're HIV positive." She said it so quickly, like it was something she didn't want to say, or didn't know how to say, so the only thing she could do was blurt it out. I sat there a moment, not shocked but confused because all my life I had taken medicine and I was told it was because I had sickle cell. In my mind, I remembered whispers of my mother having AIDS when she had died. I was even more confused because I didn't do anything wrong. I mean, I was a straight A, honor roll student. I cheered, I did gymnastics and I went to school everyday and came straight home after practice. I didn't want AIDS, it's nasty. Crack heads and gay men have AIDS, not me. Not my mother! All I could do was cover my face with my hands and cry, I felt nasty. Dirty! I felt the warm touch of my aunts embrace and I must've cried myself to sleep on that couch.

The next morning I woke up with puffy eyes, I looked exactly how I felt. My eyes were red, my hair a mess and my thoughts scrambled. I didn't pray that morning, I didn't thank God for waking me because honestly, I didn't want to wake up on the side of the living. I actually wanted to die. How can I live an HIV positive life? How can I date? Who could I tell? Who could I trust? All of my friends, and none I could really trust with this information. I've seen my friends ridicule other girls and calling them sick because they were mad. Calling someone sick was the one thing you could say to really hurt a person, true or not. I didn't want to go to school but I walked out the front door, and instead of going to school, I caught the city bus to my grandparents house to hang with my aunt.

My aunt Rashae was just two years older than me and we were thick as thieves. She was my complete opposite, where I was dull and predictable, she was funny and vibrant. Rashae knew how to make the room tear up from laughter. A little heavy set but one of the prettiest girls in the room. She was light skinned, with long thick hair she always kept in a ponytail.

A few stops ahead I called Rashae, "hey, you want to meet me at the bus stop by the market?"

"Huh, aren't you suppose to be at school?" I knew she was puzzled because I never miss school.