"Shit!"
Angel bent over and pulled the high-heeled shoe from his foot, then unceremoniously flung it against the wall of a nearby building. Next, he proceeded to repeat the process with the other shoe, leaving him standing in the rain with nothing to cover his feet but stockings, which did nothing to ease the bite of an unusually freezing autumn. Clearing a strand of hair out of his face, the transvestite looked around him hopelessly, before reaching forward to take back his scuffed up shoes.
"Well, now that I'm lost, I might as well find somewhere to set myself up for the night...not like it'll make much of a difference now though...I'll probably freeze in the middle of the night."
'You know talking to yourself is the first sign of craziness.' A small voice in his mind chided. Irritated, Angel scoffed back-out loud,
"Yeah? So lock me up. At least some nuthouse'll be warmer than out here."
Such a cynical attitude wasn't characteristic of the usually vivacious drag queen, and her highness blamed it on gender-deficient PMS. Or something like that. The voice said again, provoking another agitated groan.
"Leave me alone, will ya?"
Angel had gotten lost, trying to remember where it was that Collins' friend's were staying. That night he had escaped the stuffy loft for a late night walk. Collins and his other friends had gone out to the life cafe that night, and Angel hadn't been too keen to accompany them.
'Big mistake.' Now he was lost in the city of no where. One lousy wrong turn and he was back where he had been before, absolutely nowhere. Although, now, that nowhere before seemed pretty warm compared to where he was now.
He looked around him, more or less looking for a reasonably warm place to sleep for the night. The sun was just setting over a smoky horizon, which would sap from the smoggy New York air any warmth it had left. To top it all off, dark clouds had gathered around the skyline, threatening more rain. One eye spotted a corner that wasn't occupied by the homeless resident so frequent a sight in NYC. With a sigh, he trudged over to the spot and sat down, setting his drums in front of him to use as a makeshift pillow, and fell asleep.
Morning came too quickly. With a godhelpme sigh, he opened his eyes reluctantly and pulled his weary body up. His precious drag was soaked with snow, and served him as a cold, wet blanket. Angel shivered, coughed, and batted angerly at the ever-sounding beeper at his side. If there was one thing he didn't want to do, it was remind himself of that damned disease the good Lord had decided to "bless" him with. But, duty and health ruling him as it was, Angel took his AZT like a good boy.
Once the unpleasantries were over, he succeeded in gathering enough strength to pull up his drums, and scope for a place to change. No one was gonna pay for a drag queen street drummer, no matter how cute he looked. A small abandoned theatre resided behind him, and he slipped in to change-then slipped out again just as quick. As disgusting as the life he lead was, the gruesome spider webs and roaches running around provoked him to change in a hurry.
Angel sat, straddled the drum between his legs, and began to beat the leather with his rough hands, patting out a relaxing beat. Such a familiar feeling, his fingers against the soft leather, warm even in this bitter cold. His upper body moved over the drum like a lover, and his eyes drifted closed in contented happiness. His everlasting search for joy always ended in the drum, the calming beat, the touch and sound and feeling of knowledge and skill when his fingers hit the top. It was an emotion that could only be described as love. In a lonely life like his, this was the only solace somebody like him could find.
Minutes, hours, days could have passed by, before Angel looked up from his insistant drumming and saw a measely couple of dollars in the can beside him.
'Ah well,' he thought to himself, 'it could've been worse.'
After this calming procedure, he sighed laborously and looked around for any sign as to where he was. Nothing familiar, absolutely nothing. Nothing until a voice sounded by his ear that made his young heart leap for joy.
"Angel? What are you doing all the way out here?"
He turned his head swiftly around to meet Mark's amused yet questioning gaze. Finally a familiar face!
"Oh, nothing. I just got a little lost, so I decided to spend the night here. Actually not that bad once your whole body goes numb-then you can't feel a damned thing."
Mark laughed, sounding a bit like nasal piano keys tinkering across the board. Not exactly the most attractive sound, but reassuring in the least.
"I see, well, you got pretty lost."
"What are you doing out there then?"
"I just went out for a little inspiration walk."
"Without that camera you're so stuck on?"
"I'm still recharging the battaries."
"I see."
Angel sat there for a moment, before climbing to his feet and slinging his drums and clothing bag over his shoulder.
"Mind if I join you?"
"Be my guest. Collins is still sleeping off last night's hangover."
This time it was Angel who laughed.
"That sounds right."
"Yeah." Mark's voice trailed off, before he turned his head and looked at the drag queen with mild interest. "Why didn't you come with us last night?"
"Oh, no reason. I was just tired."
Okay, so Angel wasn't telling the truth. Honestly, he had been more than tired-the shaking had gotten worse, and more than once he had vomited-more than once missing the toilet. Cleaning up the mess had taken half the night, while fighting extreme dizzyness had taken the other half.
"Okay."
They walked in silence for a little bit, not saying a word through the falling snow until they reached a tent community residing on a broken down construction area that had never exactly been finished.
"Hold on a second."
Angel walked over, money can in hand, and put it in the hands of a woman and small child. The woman was in truth about thirty, but easily mistaken for a much older age. Deep wrinkles of poverty had stretched across her tanned face, and the small child she held in her lap was torn and scarred with dirt.
"Here you are."
"Thank you sir-thank you so much."
"Anytime."
Angel felt the regular surge of satisfaction, before he spun around and returned to Mark's side.
"You really like giving things away, don't you?"
"It's nice to know you're able to do something for this damn city. Even when this damn city won't do anything for you."
"Ah."
Another long silence, before Angel burst into a coughing fit, her shoulders heaving up and down rapidly as her back and shoulder muscles tensed and rippled in acute pain.
"Are you all right? We should get you home."
"No, I'm fine, really."
The transvestite put a finger to the bridge of his nose, and closed his eyes for a moment, before opening them and smiling.
"Really, I am fine Mark, don't look so aggravated."
Another laugh, although this time it seemed a bit more forced, as if hiding something a bit more serious than just a small cough. Nodding and taking her word for it, Mark was still a bit on edge. He knew Angel had HIV, and that it was serious, but the thought of such a vivacious friend being taken from them all seemed impossible. In an instant he had pushed it from his mind-Angel couldn't die, it just wouldn't be right.
"Are /you/ okay Mark?"
His thoughts were interrupted by the mock scolding of Angel's light-toned voice.
"Oh, I'm fine." Then, laughing, repeated, "don't look so aggravated."
"All right then, I won't."
Yet another long silence, although this one held more tension, before Angel spun to the side and looked at Mark with wild eyes.
"Mark, I need your help."
"I'm listening."
"I-" His voice faltered a little bit, before he bit his lip until the surface was raw with slight blood. Then, he resumed. "I'm not as fine as I told you. I mean, I'm-I'm really sick."
"I know, we all do. So is Roger, and Collins, and-"
"It isn't the HIV damnit!" Angel yelled, delicate chest heaving up and down. "I don't, I don't know whether it is or not. All I know is that no matter what I do, I keep getting the worst dizzyness, and somehow, I get the feeling that it's a lot more serious than the AZT can handle. I went to a doctor, he got all pissed, saying people like me shouldn't be bothering 'normal' people like him, and just told me to take double the doses of AZT, but either I'm going crazy or it isn't fuckin' working! I just thought, since you're-oh God, I didn't mean to spill this all out."
Angel turned away from Mark and lay his forehead against the cold brick of an adjacent building. The shivering of his bony shoulders told Mark that he was crying. Without really knowing what to do, Mark awkwardly walked over to him, and lay a hand on the thin back.
'So that explains all this weird behavior.'
"Well, we've got to tell someone. Get Collins, he's bound to know someone who can help."
Angel faced Mark, face signifigantly paler.
"No! You can't tell anyone, you just can't. Espescially not Collins, I don't want to cause any more trouble than I already have."
"It won't be trouble. We'll just-"
"Mark, please."
Angel's chest heaved up and down, and his face was drawn, coffee-cream complexioned face drained of color. This strange anxiety in their constantly bright companion frightened Mark. No longer was this the always smiling Angel, but the Angel with a serious problem that should be attended to. But the filmmaker was at a loss, he couldn't tell, he had to tell. He couldn't let go of Angel's secret, that the youth had so trustingly laid in his hands. For a second, he cursed ever hearing this news, although part of him knew that this was beyond bad.
"All right, I promise I won't tell."
"Thank you."
The transvestite's whole body relaxed, as he let a wan smile creep over his face-Mark felt his heart splash with a thud into his stomach. There was no way he could keep this promise.
They walked back to Mark and Roger's flat as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. Angel chirped along happily, talking in his quick voice about this and that-but Mark found it hard to concentrate on the mindless gabber. Everytime Angel paused to cough, or shook his head in a manner to rid himself of something unseen icy cold breath caught in the bohemian's throat. But, every time Angel shook it off, and continued.
"We're back!"
Collins walked into the room, still looking a bit dazed, and reached out for the grinning Angel.
"You left me here this morning."
"You were still sleeping."
"So?"
Angel laughed, more like a giggle, as Collins pulled at his wrist to get him out of the room with all the people just as Roger entered, leaving Mark alone with his roommate.
"So, how was the walk?"
"Fine."
"Fine? Gee, you normally go off on some stant about how inspirational the city looks at five in the morning."
"Well, maybe it just wasn't so inspirational this morning."
"Sure, whatever you say."
"So, how's the song coming."
A deadpan look was shot Mark's way.
"I've got absolutely nothing but a dream and this damned guitar."
"So, same as yesterday, huh?"
Angel let his head roll back on his neck as Collins recapped the incidents of last night at the Life Cafe.
"Everyone was there-we had a lot of fun. Why didn't you come?"
The head moved up. "I-" A pause, before the boy continued, "I was just tired."
"You've been tired for a while now. I can't help but get the feeling that it's more than tired."
"It isn't, okay?" Angel snapped, "so just get off my back about it."
Collins was taken aback. Never had Angel sounded so irritable-not even in the early morning when he couldn't sleep and 'accidentally' woke Angel up do to a lack of grace in movement.
"Angel? What's wrong?!"
"Nothing! Just leave me the hell alone! I've-I've just, oh God, I have to get out."
The transvestite pulled himself off of the chair and ran as quickly as he could out of the room. Collins called his name, and started after him. But before he could even reach the door, he heard Angel outside. There was a moment's silence, before the sound of a quick, tense beat filled the morning air.
Angel flung his hands on his drum fervently, and began beating as hard and as fast as possible. Anything to push away the dizzyness. Such an energy lasted a few minutes, before the transvestite's stomach was jolted to the side, and he vomited twice on the grass. Shoulders shook, chest banged, and ears roared, but without another thought, he began drumming again, faster, slower, louder, softer; it didn't matter as long as there was something else to block out the thoughts, and the guilt, that now lowered themselves like fog over his mind. He was disgusted with himself, the tone he had taken with Collins, throwing all this weight on Mark, he never wanted to get anyone else involved. But now it was too late. He stopped again, and threw up whatever was left of his whatever-was-left-in-the-fridge dinner last night, before blacking out on the hard concrete.
"Roger! Did you see Angel?!"
"No Collins, what happened?"
The husky blonde looked at Collins, surprised at the pallor of his friend, so uncharictaristic of his face.
"I was talking to him about what we had done last night at the Life Cafe, when he got all weird. I had never seen him act so irritable, then he yelled something, and ran out."
Mark paused at the door, something had happened with Angel.
"Roger," he said, "could you excuse us for a moment?"
Roger nodded, an odd look crossing his face, but he stepped out of the room, leaving a puzzled and distraught Collins alone with Mark. Angel would hate the filmmaker for this, but Collins had to know.
"I was walking with Angel this morning Collins, he had gotten lost on the way back from a drum session and I was just that way. And-"
Mark stopped at a dark look he recieved from Collins.
"No, nothing happened between us. But, when we were almost home, he spilled something he obviously didn't want anyone else to know, and made me promise not to tell."
"Why wouldn't she tell me?"
"I don't know, but she definately didn't want you to know."
"Tell me!"
M. Cohen was startled by the force in which Collins said this, and nodded his head.
"All right, but you can't tell him that I told."
"I promise."
"He said-said that he was really sick, and that the AZT wasn't working."
"A doctor-"
"Angel went to a doctor, but he just told her that people like her shouldn't be bothering the upright citizens, then told her to take double the AZT."
The teacher's face tensed, and Mark could see his hands tighten into fists. But, he said nothing, so Mark continued.
"He didn't want to bother anyone with it, but he told me that he's been getting real dizzy, and throwing up, and-oh he didn't want me to tell you, that was almost the only thing he made clear."
Collins got up, and started for the door.
"What are you doing Collins?!"
"Going out to get her!"
"But-"
"If it's as bad as you say, than she shouldn't be out in this cold."
With that, he ran outside, with Mark close at his heels.
Thomas R. Collins ran as fast as he could to the spot where he had last heard Angel drumming, right on the corner by the telephone booth where they had first met. Sure as anything, he saw Angel's drum, then saw Angel, laying halfway over-slumped down on the grass. He moved forward, and landed on his knees by the transvestite. Praying as hard as he could, he picked the youth up, both thankful and worried due to the extreme lightness of his lover. A burning head fell limply against Collins' broad chest, and thin limbs hung like an old discarded ragdoll.
"Come on baby, wake up."
"Collins! What, oh shit...we'd better get him inside."
With the help of Mark, Angel was brought into the apartment, and up the stairs to the loft. Mimi was there now, obviously just arriving.
"My gawd, what happened?!"
"Put him on the couch."
Roger ran into the other room to call 911 accompanied by Mark, while Mimi got a cool cloth to put on his forehead. Collins was in shock, sitting by the couch where an unconscious Angel lay. Roger's voice carried into the living room,
"What the fuck do you mean hold? We've got an emergency here! Damn! Well to hell with you too Mister!"
The sound of a phone slamming onto the reciever rung through the loft.
"They said that they're too busy for some drag queen blacking out on a corner."
"What do they mean, damnit? I'll go down there myself! Shit! They can't just let-"
Mimi lay a comforting hand on Collins' shoulder.
"Just sit down. I'll go call another doctor to come down and check up on him. It isn't as horrible as it looks, I'm sure."
"I'll go with her."
Mimi and Roger walked out of the room, leaving Mark and Collins alone. The ex-teacher was biting his knuckle until it was raw, and gazing blankly at Angel.
"If I had known sooner."
"It's gonna be okay Collins, Roger and Mimi'll get a doctor, and we'll get Angel the medicine, and-"
"How are we going to pay for it all?"
"Well...I'm sure we'll come up with something."
With that, Mark got up, and left Collins sitting in the room, hovering over the shivering and coughing Angel.
'I'm sure we'll come up with something....I sure hope we'll come up with something....what if we don't come up with something? Collins'll be heartbroken...shit...why me?....I need a drink....'
Angel bent over and pulled the high-heeled shoe from his foot, then unceremoniously flung it against the wall of a nearby building. Next, he proceeded to repeat the process with the other shoe, leaving him standing in the rain with nothing to cover his feet but stockings, which did nothing to ease the bite of an unusually freezing autumn. Clearing a strand of hair out of his face, the transvestite looked around him hopelessly, before reaching forward to take back his scuffed up shoes.
"Well, now that I'm lost, I might as well find somewhere to set myself up for the night...not like it'll make much of a difference now though...I'll probably freeze in the middle of the night."
'You know talking to yourself is the first sign of craziness.' A small voice in his mind chided. Irritated, Angel scoffed back-out loud,
"Yeah? So lock me up. At least some nuthouse'll be warmer than out here."
Such a cynical attitude wasn't characteristic of the usually vivacious drag queen, and her highness blamed it on gender-deficient PMS. Or something like that. The voice said again, provoking another agitated groan.
"Leave me alone, will ya?"
Angel had gotten lost, trying to remember where it was that Collins' friend's were staying. That night he had escaped the stuffy loft for a late night walk. Collins and his other friends had gone out to the life cafe that night, and Angel hadn't been too keen to accompany them.
'Big mistake.' Now he was lost in the city of no where. One lousy wrong turn and he was back where he had been before, absolutely nowhere. Although, now, that nowhere before seemed pretty warm compared to where he was now.
He looked around him, more or less looking for a reasonably warm place to sleep for the night. The sun was just setting over a smoky horizon, which would sap from the smoggy New York air any warmth it had left. To top it all off, dark clouds had gathered around the skyline, threatening more rain. One eye spotted a corner that wasn't occupied by the homeless resident so frequent a sight in NYC. With a sigh, he trudged over to the spot and sat down, setting his drums in front of him to use as a makeshift pillow, and fell asleep.
Morning came too quickly. With a godhelpme sigh, he opened his eyes reluctantly and pulled his weary body up. His precious drag was soaked with snow, and served him as a cold, wet blanket. Angel shivered, coughed, and batted angerly at the ever-sounding beeper at his side. If there was one thing he didn't want to do, it was remind himself of that damned disease the good Lord had decided to "bless" him with. But, duty and health ruling him as it was, Angel took his AZT like a good boy.
Once the unpleasantries were over, he succeeded in gathering enough strength to pull up his drums, and scope for a place to change. No one was gonna pay for a drag queen street drummer, no matter how cute he looked. A small abandoned theatre resided behind him, and he slipped in to change-then slipped out again just as quick. As disgusting as the life he lead was, the gruesome spider webs and roaches running around provoked him to change in a hurry.
Angel sat, straddled the drum between his legs, and began to beat the leather with his rough hands, patting out a relaxing beat. Such a familiar feeling, his fingers against the soft leather, warm even in this bitter cold. His upper body moved over the drum like a lover, and his eyes drifted closed in contented happiness. His everlasting search for joy always ended in the drum, the calming beat, the touch and sound and feeling of knowledge and skill when his fingers hit the top. It was an emotion that could only be described as love. In a lonely life like his, this was the only solace somebody like him could find.
Minutes, hours, days could have passed by, before Angel looked up from his insistant drumming and saw a measely couple of dollars in the can beside him.
'Ah well,' he thought to himself, 'it could've been worse.'
After this calming procedure, he sighed laborously and looked around for any sign as to where he was. Nothing familiar, absolutely nothing. Nothing until a voice sounded by his ear that made his young heart leap for joy.
"Angel? What are you doing all the way out here?"
He turned his head swiftly around to meet Mark's amused yet questioning gaze. Finally a familiar face!
"Oh, nothing. I just got a little lost, so I decided to spend the night here. Actually not that bad once your whole body goes numb-then you can't feel a damned thing."
Mark laughed, sounding a bit like nasal piano keys tinkering across the board. Not exactly the most attractive sound, but reassuring in the least.
"I see, well, you got pretty lost."
"What are you doing out there then?"
"I just went out for a little inspiration walk."
"Without that camera you're so stuck on?"
"I'm still recharging the battaries."
"I see."
Angel sat there for a moment, before climbing to his feet and slinging his drums and clothing bag over his shoulder.
"Mind if I join you?"
"Be my guest. Collins is still sleeping off last night's hangover."
This time it was Angel who laughed.
"That sounds right."
"Yeah." Mark's voice trailed off, before he turned his head and looked at the drag queen with mild interest. "Why didn't you come with us last night?"
"Oh, no reason. I was just tired."
Okay, so Angel wasn't telling the truth. Honestly, he had been more than tired-the shaking had gotten worse, and more than once he had vomited-more than once missing the toilet. Cleaning up the mess had taken half the night, while fighting extreme dizzyness had taken the other half.
"Okay."
They walked in silence for a little bit, not saying a word through the falling snow until they reached a tent community residing on a broken down construction area that had never exactly been finished.
"Hold on a second."
Angel walked over, money can in hand, and put it in the hands of a woman and small child. The woman was in truth about thirty, but easily mistaken for a much older age. Deep wrinkles of poverty had stretched across her tanned face, and the small child she held in her lap was torn and scarred with dirt.
"Here you are."
"Thank you sir-thank you so much."
"Anytime."
Angel felt the regular surge of satisfaction, before he spun around and returned to Mark's side.
"You really like giving things away, don't you?"
"It's nice to know you're able to do something for this damn city. Even when this damn city won't do anything for you."
"Ah."
Another long silence, before Angel burst into a coughing fit, her shoulders heaving up and down rapidly as her back and shoulder muscles tensed and rippled in acute pain.
"Are you all right? We should get you home."
"No, I'm fine, really."
The transvestite put a finger to the bridge of his nose, and closed his eyes for a moment, before opening them and smiling.
"Really, I am fine Mark, don't look so aggravated."
Another laugh, although this time it seemed a bit more forced, as if hiding something a bit more serious than just a small cough. Nodding and taking her word for it, Mark was still a bit on edge. He knew Angel had HIV, and that it was serious, but the thought of such a vivacious friend being taken from them all seemed impossible. In an instant he had pushed it from his mind-Angel couldn't die, it just wouldn't be right.
"Are /you/ okay Mark?"
His thoughts were interrupted by the mock scolding of Angel's light-toned voice.
"Oh, I'm fine." Then, laughing, repeated, "don't look so aggravated."
"All right then, I won't."
Yet another long silence, although this one held more tension, before Angel spun to the side and looked at Mark with wild eyes.
"Mark, I need your help."
"I'm listening."
"I-" His voice faltered a little bit, before he bit his lip until the surface was raw with slight blood. Then, he resumed. "I'm not as fine as I told you. I mean, I'm-I'm really sick."
"I know, we all do. So is Roger, and Collins, and-"
"It isn't the HIV damnit!" Angel yelled, delicate chest heaving up and down. "I don't, I don't know whether it is or not. All I know is that no matter what I do, I keep getting the worst dizzyness, and somehow, I get the feeling that it's a lot more serious than the AZT can handle. I went to a doctor, he got all pissed, saying people like me shouldn't be bothering 'normal' people like him, and just told me to take double the doses of AZT, but either I'm going crazy or it isn't fuckin' working! I just thought, since you're-oh God, I didn't mean to spill this all out."
Angel turned away from Mark and lay his forehead against the cold brick of an adjacent building. The shivering of his bony shoulders told Mark that he was crying. Without really knowing what to do, Mark awkwardly walked over to him, and lay a hand on the thin back.
'So that explains all this weird behavior.'
"Well, we've got to tell someone. Get Collins, he's bound to know someone who can help."
Angel faced Mark, face signifigantly paler.
"No! You can't tell anyone, you just can't. Espescially not Collins, I don't want to cause any more trouble than I already have."
"It won't be trouble. We'll just-"
"Mark, please."
Angel's chest heaved up and down, and his face was drawn, coffee-cream complexioned face drained of color. This strange anxiety in their constantly bright companion frightened Mark. No longer was this the always smiling Angel, but the Angel with a serious problem that should be attended to. But the filmmaker was at a loss, he couldn't tell, he had to tell. He couldn't let go of Angel's secret, that the youth had so trustingly laid in his hands. For a second, he cursed ever hearing this news, although part of him knew that this was beyond bad.
"All right, I promise I won't tell."
"Thank you."
The transvestite's whole body relaxed, as he let a wan smile creep over his face-Mark felt his heart splash with a thud into his stomach. There was no way he could keep this promise.
They walked back to Mark and Roger's flat as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. Angel chirped along happily, talking in his quick voice about this and that-but Mark found it hard to concentrate on the mindless gabber. Everytime Angel paused to cough, or shook his head in a manner to rid himself of something unseen icy cold breath caught in the bohemian's throat. But, every time Angel shook it off, and continued.
"We're back!"
Collins walked into the room, still looking a bit dazed, and reached out for the grinning Angel.
"You left me here this morning."
"You were still sleeping."
"So?"
Angel laughed, more like a giggle, as Collins pulled at his wrist to get him out of the room with all the people just as Roger entered, leaving Mark alone with his roommate.
"So, how was the walk?"
"Fine."
"Fine? Gee, you normally go off on some stant about how inspirational the city looks at five in the morning."
"Well, maybe it just wasn't so inspirational this morning."
"Sure, whatever you say."
"So, how's the song coming."
A deadpan look was shot Mark's way.
"I've got absolutely nothing but a dream and this damned guitar."
"So, same as yesterday, huh?"
Angel let his head roll back on his neck as Collins recapped the incidents of last night at the Life Cafe.
"Everyone was there-we had a lot of fun. Why didn't you come?"
The head moved up. "I-" A pause, before the boy continued, "I was just tired."
"You've been tired for a while now. I can't help but get the feeling that it's more than tired."
"It isn't, okay?" Angel snapped, "so just get off my back about it."
Collins was taken aback. Never had Angel sounded so irritable-not even in the early morning when he couldn't sleep and 'accidentally' woke Angel up do to a lack of grace in movement.
"Angel? What's wrong?!"
"Nothing! Just leave me the hell alone! I've-I've just, oh God, I have to get out."
The transvestite pulled himself off of the chair and ran as quickly as he could out of the room. Collins called his name, and started after him. But before he could even reach the door, he heard Angel outside. There was a moment's silence, before the sound of a quick, tense beat filled the morning air.
Angel flung his hands on his drum fervently, and began beating as hard and as fast as possible. Anything to push away the dizzyness. Such an energy lasted a few minutes, before the transvestite's stomach was jolted to the side, and he vomited twice on the grass. Shoulders shook, chest banged, and ears roared, but without another thought, he began drumming again, faster, slower, louder, softer; it didn't matter as long as there was something else to block out the thoughts, and the guilt, that now lowered themselves like fog over his mind. He was disgusted with himself, the tone he had taken with Collins, throwing all this weight on Mark, he never wanted to get anyone else involved. But now it was too late. He stopped again, and threw up whatever was left of his whatever-was-left-in-the-fridge dinner last night, before blacking out on the hard concrete.
"Roger! Did you see Angel?!"
"No Collins, what happened?"
The husky blonde looked at Collins, surprised at the pallor of his friend, so uncharictaristic of his face.
"I was talking to him about what we had done last night at the Life Cafe, when he got all weird. I had never seen him act so irritable, then he yelled something, and ran out."
Mark paused at the door, something had happened with Angel.
"Roger," he said, "could you excuse us for a moment?"
Roger nodded, an odd look crossing his face, but he stepped out of the room, leaving a puzzled and distraught Collins alone with Mark. Angel would hate the filmmaker for this, but Collins had to know.
"I was walking with Angel this morning Collins, he had gotten lost on the way back from a drum session and I was just that way. And-"
Mark stopped at a dark look he recieved from Collins.
"No, nothing happened between us. But, when we were almost home, he spilled something he obviously didn't want anyone else to know, and made me promise not to tell."
"Why wouldn't she tell me?"
"I don't know, but she definately didn't want you to know."
"Tell me!"
M. Cohen was startled by the force in which Collins said this, and nodded his head.
"All right, but you can't tell him that I told."
"I promise."
"He said-said that he was really sick, and that the AZT wasn't working."
"A doctor-"
"Angel went to a doctor, but he just told her that people like her shouldn't be bothering the upright citizens, then told her to take double the AZT."
The teacher's face tensed, and Mark could see his hands tighten into fists. But, he said nothing, so Mark continued.
"He didn't want to bother anyone with it, but he told me that he's been getting real dizzy, and throwing up, and-oh he didn't want me to tell you, that was almost the only thing he made clear."
Collins got up, and started for the door.
"What are you doing Collins?!"
"Going out to get her!"
"But-"
"If it's as bad as you say, than she shouldn't be out in this cold."
With that, he ran outside, with Mark close at his heels.
Thomas R. Collins ran as fast as he could to the spot where he had last heard Angel drumming, right on the corner by the telephone booth where they had first met. Sure as anything, he saw Angel's drum, then saw Angel, laying halfway over-slumped down on the grass. He moved forward, and landed on his knees by the transvestite. Praying as hard as he could, he picked the youth up, both thankful and worried due to the extreme lightness of his lover. A burning head fell limply against Collins' broad chest, and thin limbs hung like an old discarded ragdoll.
"Come on baby, wake up."
"Collins! What, oh shit...we'd better get him inside."
With the help of Mark, Angel was brought into the apartment, and up the stairs to the loft. Mimi was there now, obviously just arriving.
"My gawd, what happened?!"
"Put him on the couch."
Roger ran into the other room to call 911 accompanied by Mark, while Mimi got a cool cloth to put on his forehead. Collins was in shock, sitting by the couch where an unconscious Angel lay. Roger's voice carried into the living room,
"What the fuck do you mean hold? We've got an emergency here! Damn! Well to hell with you too Mister!"
The sound of a phone slamming onto the reciever rung through the loft.
"They said that they're too busy for some drag queen blacking out on a corner."
"What do they mean, damnit? I'll go down there myself! Shit! They can't just let-"
Mimi lay a comforting hand on Collins' shoulder.
"Just sit down. I'll go call another doctor to come down and check up on him. It isn't as horrible as it looks, I'm sure."
"I'll go with her."
Mimi and Roger walked out of the room, leaving Mark and Collins alone. The ex-teacher was biting his knuckle until it was raw, and gazing blankly at Angel.
"If I had known sooner."
"It's gonna be okay Collins, Roger and Mimi'll get a doctor, and we'll get Angel the medicine, and-"
"How are we going to pay for it all?"
"Well...I'm sure we'll come up with something."
With that, Mark got up, and left Collins sitting in the room, hovering over the shivering and coughing Angel.
'I'm sure we'll come up with something....I sure hope we'll come up with something....what if we don't come up with something? Collins'll be heartbroken...shit...why me?....I need a drink....'