Chapter 34: We'll Begin Our Affirmation
"New York City," Angel mumbled, miserably, trudging down the sidewalks of Avenue B looking for the street vendor he'd been buying his AZT from.
"Hey, I remember you," the man said in a thick Brooklyn accent as Angel approached him.
"I need to fill my prescription," Angel continued, barely acknowledging the man's presence.
"A'ight, a'ight. This for you?" he asked, while filling the transparent orange bottle with round, white pills.
"Yes. Do you really have to rub it in my face like that?" Angel questioned, getting a slight attitude in his voice.
"Hey, no need to get an attitude. I'm doin' you a favor. What your name?"
"Angel."
"Nice to meet ya, Angel. Name's Jimmy."
"Oh," Angel responded quietly, as Jimmy handed him the bottle back.
"You're all set. And I wasn't tryin' to rub it in your face. I got it too. You're not alone," he said softly, the roughness in his voice evaporating.
"It's nice to know that," Angel answered sincerely. Pausing, he cracked his knuckles, and then blurted out, "I just got it."
"It's been five years for me. This AZT stuff, you know, some people say it's a load of shit, but I've been healthy since I started taking it."
"It's not gonna cure me."
"You're right, but it'll make the time you have much longer."
"I guess." Angel answered, cracking his knuckles again.
"I wanna give you something," Jimmy continued, "I get a lot of people like you here."
"What do you mean 'people like me'?" Angel asked, beginning to get slightly defensive.
"I just mean people who might get shunned way at a hospital. Let's face it: not every hospital is gonna be willing to give some gay guy in girl's clothing proper treatment for a disease that they assume you got from having lots of unprotected sex."
Ready to argue with him, Angel opened his mouth to say something, but then shut it and nodded. "You're right."
"I work at a hospital clinic for the night shift, and when I'm not working there, I'm out here selling the AZT. I order it straight from the hospital. You're not supposed to know where I get it from, or how I get it. Don't wanna get my co workers fired or nothing, so keep it on the down- low, you know?"
"Yeah."
"Well, anyway, I get a lot of you folks around here, and I know someone who wants support when I see them. It's called Life Support, ironically enough," he said, handing Angel a bent, yellowing business card. "Every night at 9:30 PM."
"What's it about?" he questioned, examining the card in his hand.
"Just head over there tonight. Tell Paul, the guy in charge, that Jimmy sent you. He's an old friend of mine."
"What do I have to do?"
"Show up and listen," Jimmy said, handing Angel the newly-filled bottle of pills and turning his back on him to put the larger bottle away in a suitcase.
Puzzled, he thanked Jimmy for the pills, even though he flushed them down the toilet every time he was supposed to take them anyway. walking away, Angel examined the business card, reading what it said.
Forget regret, or life is yours to miss
Life Support
Support others, and help yourself.
Meets daily at 9:30 PM
Call Paul (202-8475) for details.
NO DAY BUT TODAY!
The positivity and cheerfulness of the message on the card made Angel slightly annoyed. How could anyone be so happy when they had AIDS? Confused and bitter, Angel walked home, a fresh bottle of AZT in his hand.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Hey baby, how's the city this morning?" Queenie greeted Angel, air- kissing his cheek.
"It's okay, I guess," he responded gloomily. Lately he'd been very depressed, and understandably so. Queenie hadn't known exactly how to go about treating him, so she'd been acting the same way she always had: happy and loving, which Angel didn't seem too thrilled with.
"Smile, baby, everything's gonna be fine," she said, in a voice more optimistic than Angel could tolerate.
"Everything's not gonna be fine, because I'm not gonna get better," he snapped back, clutching the business card in his hand like a valuable keepsake.
"You can't keep thinking like that, you know. It's not doing any good." She sighed, hopelessly. Seeing the card in his hand, she questioned, "What's that?"
"I went to go fill my prescription, and I met this guy who said I should go to this." He handed Queenie the card.
"Ooh! I've heard about this. They started the Life Support group right around when Fred got diagnosed. I've heard the best things about it."
"I don't think I'm actually gonna go, but I felt bad saying no to Jimmy," Angel explained. His constant guilt and need to make everyone happy was a glimpse of the old Angel. Queenie smiled. She missed the cheerful, optimistic transvestite she had taken under her wing four years ago.
"I really think you should go, Ang, it'll be good for you," Queenie said, trying to force the sociability back into him. The only time he'd left the house since the diagnosis was to fill his prescription every week.
"I don't know," Angel said, skeptically.
"How about you go tonight, and see how it is. If you hate it, you never have to go again, but I want you to leave the house."
Sighing, Angel rolled his eyes.
"I'm not kidding. Ever since you've gotten diagnosed and William went to rehab, you've barely seen the light of day. You don't work at the club, you barely dress up anymore, and I don't think I've seen you talk to anyone besides me and Fred for over a month!"
Angel looked down and tugged on his baggy, faded gray t-shirt. "Yeah, well if you were gonna die like me, then I bet you wouldn't be so happy."
"If I knew that my days were numbered, I'd live every day to the fullest. 'No day but today,' isn't that what it says on the card?"
"Yeah," Angel grumbled.
"So seize the day and do something productive. I'm only telling you this because I love you, and I don't want to see you sit here and waste away," she explained, placing her hands on Angel's shoulders.
Stepping back cautiously from her embrace, Angel looked straight into her eyes. "I'm only going tonight. That's it."
"That's all I ask," she said quietly, her voice defeated and tired.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Arriving at the building approximately 9:27 PM, Angel glanced up at the tall, decrepit building in front of him. Deep red bricks were crumbling away, and green vines grew up the sides of the massive structure. Sighing, Angel entered the building, and saw that the first door to his right was marked "Paul Mingo: Life Support."
"This is it," he whispered as he placed his hand on the doorknob. Feeling slightly self-conscious, Angel left his hand on the doorknob and looked down at what he was wearing. This was the first time he'd dressed in full drag since he got raped. His outfit was truly stunning: A rubbery plastic dress that looked like it was just lots of rings covering his body. The bright bands of color came down to about mid-thigh. A bit of his legs showed, only to be covered just below his knee by high, shiny white platform boots. A long blonde wig cascaded down his back and his face sparkled with glittering makeup. He knew he shouldn't feel insecure about his appearance; he never had before. Tonight was different, however. He wasn't just Angel in drag; he was Angel in drag with HIV. Taking one last breath, he turned the knob and opened the door.
Faces of strangers greeted him as he entered the dimly-lit room. Christmas lights hung around the perimeter of the space, and candles were placed randomly around on tables. A small group of people sat; some in chairs, others on the floor, and a short, thin black man with shoulder- length dreadlocks stood in the middle, with a huge, blinding smile on his face.
"Welcome," he greeted, his deep brown eyes greeting Angel with happiness. "I'm Paul Mingo. It's nice of you to join us."
"Hi," Angel mumbled. It wasn't like him to be this shy and insecure. He extended his hand, and Paul shook it, firmly. "I'm Angel."
"Why don't we all introduce ourselves to Angel," Paul said to the group. "They've all been coming for months. You're the first newbie we've had in a while."
"Oh," Angel responded, feeling even more uncomfortable.
"Don't worry, we love having new people. The nine of us can only share the same stories so many times," Paul explained, then continued, "So, let's begin our affirmation. Take a seat, Angel."
A short Hispanic boy who looked to be about the same age as Angel, got up from his seat. "I'm Steve. You can sit here, if you like."
"Sure. Thank you," Angel replied, baffled by the friendliness of the group.
"Steve, why don't you start, since you've already introduced yourself," Paul said, taking his seat next to a very affection lesbian couple, and a man who looked a bit older than Angel, with a plaid shirt and faded jeans on.
"Hi, I'm Steve. I got HIV when I was ten from a blood transfusion, and now I'm 23. My boyfriend, Kirk, had HIV too," Steve said, all the while with a big, optimistic smile on his face. Angel was amazed at how happy he was.
"I'm Gordon," the man in the plaid shirt said. His head was down, his hands folded tightly in his lap.
"Thank you for sharing, Gordon and Steve. I'm Paul, and I'm the leader of this group. I started it when my partner died from AIDS over three years ago. I've made a commitment to myself to do this in Nick's memory. He lived every day as his last, and he his dying wish was that others who were infected would live a life as full as his."
"I'm Sherri, and this is my girlfriend, Rae," a girl with long, blue hair and black clothes with chains said, as she pointed to the girl sitting next to her. Rae wore faded blue jeans with tons of patches on them and gauzy thing peasant shirt. She and Sherri had their hands locked together, as if they were one person, never to be separated. "We're both negative, but a good friend of ours just recently found out she's positive. We come here to support her, because she's afraid to come herself."
Rae smiled shyly as another woman sitting next to her, a tiny young- looking Asian girl with curly black hair and fluorescent orange pants proceeded to introduce herself as Lisa. "I'm just like Steve. I got it through a transfusion."
The woman sitting next to Lisa was also Asian, but she looked older. Her eyes were more sunken in, and her body looked emaciated. "I'm Sue," she said quietly, her voice slightly raspy. "I have full-blown AIDS. I'm the only one here who probably won't live to see the next millennium." She smiled sadly, then continued, "but I've had this virus for close to 10 years, and I just started taking AZT about 4 years ago. I have no regrets at all. Paul was the one who helped me through everything, and my life has been wonderful."
The whole group sat in an awkward, sad silence. It was clear that Sue was not well, and that her days were definitely numbered. She didn't have very much time left.
"What an act to follow," a large, African girl said, laughing uncomfortably. "I'm Pam, and my husband and I are both infected with HIV. He refuses to come to these things. He's a bit of a homophobe, and the fact that there are gays here doesn't really appeal to him. I just like to bring back what I hear here home."
"I'm Ali," a skinny girl with a thick Irish accent and long, flowing blonde locks announced. "Pam's an old friend of mine from college, so I came here with her in the first place. I'm negative, but I like to support her and her fabulous, jackass of a husband, Ricky." She giggled slightly as she leaned over to Pam. "Just kidding, sweetie."
Angel's turn had finally come. Looking around at the group of people who had just openly shared a part of themselves, Angel felt extremely awkward. He wasn't this open about his HIV, and the only people he'd ever talked to about it were Will, Queenie and Fred. Come to think of it, those were the only people he had talked to since he'd been diagnosed. He took a deep breath, and introduced himself. "I'm Angel," he said, suddenly aware of how high his voice sounded compared to Steve, Gordon, and Paul. "What else do I have to say?" he questioned, looking to Paul for help.
Giving him a kind, genuine smile, Paul replied, "As little or as much as you like. You can stop at your name, if that's all you want to share. Nothing is required here. We're just a support group, that's all."
"Okay," Angel replied, settling back into his comfortable silence.
"Thank you for sharing, everyone. I'm sure that, with time, Angel, you'll get to know all of these people, and they'll support you just as we've all supported them. Does anybody want to discuss anything, before we begin our affirmation?"
"My T-Cell count is getting lower," Gordon blurted out in a loud, bitter voice.
"Have you been taking your AZT, Gordon?" Paul asked in a maternal way.
"No," Gordon admitted openly, chewing on one of his nails.
"Gordon, I know we've all talked about this before. Your T-Cell count won't stay stable unless you take the AZT."
"What's the point? It's not gonna cure me!" Angel gasped slightly as Gordon said that. If his voice was higher, Gordon and Angel could be the same person.
"It'll let you live longer. This is what we're talking about here: Life. None of us are dying from AIDS. We are living WITH AIDS. There's a big difference, and it's important that all of you see that," Paul preached, his voice getting louder and more intense with every powerful word.
"This is where I'll step in," Sue said, her weak raspy voice cutting in after Paul. "I am NOT dying from AIDS. I know I will someday, but until I stop breathing, I'm not dying. That's what you need to realize, Gordon. Well, all of you need to see it. You can't live every day thinking about the fact that you're gonna die. You wont' live a full life if you do that. You need to seize the day and cherish every day you're here. I know I do. Look at me," Sue said, as she used the chair for support to stand up, "I don't have that many more days, and we all know that. It's no big secret that I won't be here much longer. But the days that I have are precious. You all need to remember that. It's the secret to living."
Struck with emotion he hadn't felt in so long, Angel felt tears rolling down his cheeks. He was ashamed of himself. How could he have been so ridiculous? Here was a woman who was obviously going to die any day now, and she was as optimistic and positive as anyone could be. Her story touched him so that he remained silent for the rest of the meeting, sitting and listening to everyone else talk. He'd never gotten so much satisfaction out of simply listening.
Almost as quickly as it began, the meeting ended. The meeting concluded with a brief, yet heartfelt hug with everyone in the group. Everyone started to exit, but Angel stopped Sue on her way out.
"Sue," he said quietly, tapping her gently on the shoulder.
"Yes?" she responded, staring at Angel with her deep, sunken eyes.
"I just wanted to tell you how much your story touched me. I came into this meeting thinking like Gordon, and I'm leaving with a new outlook on everything."
Her pallid face glowed as she received the compliment, dropping her cane to hug Angel. "That means a lot to me, you know," she said, as he hugged her skin-and-bones body.
"I'm really gonna take what you said to heart. I wanna try hard to live like every day is my last. Thank you so much for sharing with me."
"Anytime, Angel. I mean that. You ever need to talk to anybody, I'm always around. I'll see you tomorrow at 9:30, right?" she asked, winking at him.
"Absolutely."
"Goodnight," she said, as Paul walked over and picked up her cane. She walked slowly out the door, shutting it behind her, leaving only Angel and Paul left in the room.
"Thank you for coming tonight, Angel. I can tell that Sue's story really meant a lot to you."
"It did. I'm so surprised how much I learned tonight. I didn't know that you could get so much out of just sitting and listening," Angel explained, speaking like a bewildered child.
"It is surprising, and very rewarding. You're always welcome at these meetings, and whenever you feel up to it, you can share as much as you want. We're a very open group, as you've seen, and the trust that we put in each other is amazing. You'll get a lot out of this. I can tell that just this one meeting has really changed you, and I like this change."
"Thank you," Angel replied, looking at him oddly. It was strange how much Paul knew about him without Angel ever having to say anything.
"No, thank you. I'll see you tomorrow at 9:30, Angel."
"Goodnight, Paul," Angel said, hugging him one last time.
"Keep your head up. Things will only get better from here," Paul promised on Angel's way out.
This time, he believed the optimism.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
A/N: I'm thinking 35 and 36 will be up by the end of the week ( I'm loving this "I don't give a crap about sports" attitude, because it gives me much more time to write! Woohoo! Review please!
"New York City," Angel mumbled, miserably, trudging down the sidewalks of Avenue B looking for the street vendor he'd been buying his AZT from.
"Hey, I remember you," the man said in a thick Brooklyn accent as Angel approached him.
"I need to fill my prescription," Angel continued, barely acknowledging the man's presence.
"A'ight, a'ight. This for you?" he asked, while filling the transparent orange bottle with round, white pills.
"Yes. Do you really have to rub it in my face like that?" Angel questioned, getting a slight attitude in his voice.
"Hey, no need to get an attitude. I'm doin' you a favor. What your name?"
"Angel."
"Nice to meet ya, Angel. Name's Jimmy."
"Oh," Angel responded quietly, as Jimmy handed him the bottle back.
"You're all set. And I wasn't tryin' to rub it in your face. I got it too. You're not alone," he said softly, the roughness in his voice evaporating.
"It's nice to know that," Angel answered sincerely. Pausing, he cracked his knuckles, and then blurted out, "I just got it."
"It's been five years for me. This AZT stuff, you know, some people say it's a load of shit, but I've been healthy since I started taking it."
"It's not gonna cure me."
"You're right, but it'll make the time you have much longer."
"I guess." Angel answered, cracking his knuckles again.
"I wanna give you something," Jimmy continued, "I get a lot of people like you here."
"What do you mean 'people like me'?" Angel asked, beginning to get slightly defensive.
"I just mean people who might get shunned way at a hospital. Let's face it: not every hospital is gonna be willing to give some gay guy in girl's clothing proper treatment for a disease that they assume you got from having lots of unprotected sex."
Ready to argue with him, Angel opened his mouth to say something, but then shut it and nodded. "You're right."
"I work at a hospital clinic for the night shift, and when I'm not working there, I'm out here selling the AZT. I order it straight from the hospital. You're not supposed to know where I get it from, or how I get it. Don't wanna get my co workers fired or nothing, so keep it on the down- low, you know?"
"Yeah."
"Well, anyway, I get a lot of you folks around here, and I know someone who wants support when I see them. It's called Life Support, ironically enough," he said, handing Angel a bent, yellowing business card. "Every night at 9:30 PM."
"What's it about?" he questioned, examining the card in his hand.
"Just head over there tonight. Tell Paul, the guy in charge, that Jimmy sent you. He's an old friend of mine."
"What do I have to do?"
"Show up and listen," Jimmy said, handing Angel the newly-filled bottle of pills and turning his back on him to put the larger bottle away in a suitcase.
Puzzled, he thanked Jimmy for the pills, even though he flushed them down the toilet every time he was supposed to take them anyway. walking away, Angel examined the business card, reading what it said.
Forget regret, or life is yours to miss
Life Support
Support others, and help yourself.
Meets daily at 9:30 PM
Call Paul (202-8475) for details.
NO DAY BUT TODAY!
The positivity and cheerfulness of the message on the card made Angel slightly annoyed. How could anyone be so happy when they had AIDS? Confused and bitter, Angel walked home, a fresh bottle of AZT in his hand.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Hey baby, how's the city this morning?" Queenie greeted Angel, air- kissing his cheek.
"It's okay, I guess," he responded gloomily. Lately he'd been very depressed, and understandably so. Queenie hadn't known exactly how to go about treating him, so she'd been acting the same way she always had: happy and loving, which Angel didn't seem too thrilled with.
"Smile, baby, everything's gonna be fine," she said, in a voice more optimistic than Angel could tolerate.
"Everything's not gonna be fine, because I'm not gonna get better," he snapped back, clutching the business card in his hand like a valuable keepsake.
"You can't keep thinking like that, you know. It's not doing any good." She sighed, hopelessly. Seeing the card in his hand, she questioned, "What's that?"
"I went to go fill my prescription, and I met this guy who said I should go to this." He handed Queenie the card.
"Ooh! I've heard about this. They started the Life Support group right around when Fred got diagnosed. I've heard the best things about it."
"I don't think I'm actually gonna go, but I felt bad saying no to Jimmy," Angel explained. His constant guilt and need to make everyone happy was a glimpse of the old Angel. Queenie smiled. She missed the cheerful, optimistic transvestite she had taken under her wing four years ago.
"I really think you should go, Ang, it'll be good for you," Queenie said, trying to force the sociability back into him. The only time he'd left the house since the diagnosis was to fill his prescription every week.
"I don't know," Angel said, skeptically.
"How about you go tonight, and see how it is. If you hate it, you never have to go again, but I want you to leave the house."
Sighing, Angel rolled his eyes.
"I'm not kidding. Ever since you've gotten diagnosed and William went to rehab, you've barely seen the light of day. You don't work at the club, you barely dress up anymore, and I don't think I've seen you talk to anyone besides me and Fred for over a month!"
Angel looked down and tugged on his baggy, faded gray t-shirt. "Yeah, well if you were gonna die like me, then I bet you wouldn't be so happy."
"If I knew that my days were numbered, I'd live every day to the fullest. 'No day but today,' isn't that what it says on the card?"
"Yeah," Angel grumbled.
"So seize the day and do something productive. I'm only telling you this because I love you, and I don't want to see you sit here and waste away," she explained, placing her hands on Angel's shoulders.
Stepping back cautiously from her embrace, Angel looked straight into her eyes. "I'm only going tonight. That's it."
"That's all I ask," she said quietly, her voice defeated and tired.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Arriving at the building approximately 9:27 PM, Angel glanced up at the tall, decrepit building in front of him. Deep red bricks were crumbling away, and green vines grew up the sides of the massive structure. Sighing, Angel entered the building, and saw that the first door to his right was marked "Paul Mingo: Life Support."
"This is it," he whispered as he placed his hand on the doorknob. Feeling slightly self-conscious, Angel left his hand on the doorknob and looked down at what he was wearing. This was the first time he'd dressed in full drag since he got raped. His outfit was truly stunning: A rubbery plastic dress that looked like it was just lots of rings covering his body. The bright bands of color came down to about mid-thigh. A bit of his legs showed, only to be covered just below his knee by high, shiny white platform boots. A long blonde wig cascaded down his back and his face sparkled with glittering makeup. He knew he shouldn't feel insecure about his appearance; he never had before. Tonight was different, however. He wasn't just Angel in drag; he was Angel in drag with HIV. Taking one last breath, he turned the knob and opened the door.
Faces of strangers greeted him as he entered the dimly-lit room. Christmas lights hung around the perimeter of the space, and candles were placed randomly around on tables. A small group of people sat; some in chairs, others on the floor, and a short, thin black man with shoulder- length dreadlocks stood in the middle, with a huge, blinding smile on his face.
"Welcome," he greeted, his deep brown eyes greeting Angel with happiness. "I'm Paul Mingo. It's nice of you to join us."
"Hi," Angel mumbled. It wasn't like him to be this shy and insecure. He extended his hand, and Paul shook it, firmly. "I'm Angel."
"Why don't we all introduce ourselves to Angel," Paul said to the group. "They've all been coming for months. You're the first newbie we've had in a while."
"Oh," Angel responded, feeling even more uncomfortable.
"Don't worry, we love having new people. The nine of us can only share the same stories so many times," Paul explained, then continued, "So, let's begin our affirmation. Take a seat, Angel."
A short Hispanic boy who looked to be about the same age as Angel, got up from his seat. "I'm Steve. You can sit here, if you like."
"Sure. Thank you," Angel replied, baffled by the friendliness of the group.
"Steve, why don't you start, since you've already introduced yourself," Paul said, taking his seat next to a very affection lesbian couple, and a man who looked a bit older than Angel, with a plaid shirt and faded jeans on.
"Hi, I'm Steve. I got HIV when I was ten from a blood transfusion, and now I'm 23. My boyfriend, Kirk, had HIV too," Steve said, all the while with a big, optimistic smile on his face. Angel was amazed at how happy he was.
"I'm Gordon," the man in the plaid shirt said. His head was down, his hands folded tightly in his lap.
"Thank you for sharing, Gordon and Steve. I'm Paul, and I'm the leader of this group. I started it when my partner died from AIDS over three years ago. I've made a commitment to myself to do this in Nick's memory. He lived every day as his last, and he his dying wish was that others who were infected would live a life as full as his."
"I'm Sherri, and this is my girlfriend, Rae," a girl with long, blue hair and black clothes with chains said, as she pointed to the girl sitting next to her. Rae wore faded blue jeans with tons of patches on them and gauzy thing peasant shirt. She and Sherri had their hands locked together, as if they were one person, never to be separated. "We're both negative, but a good friend of ours just recently found out she's positive. We come here to support her, because she's afraid to come herself."
Rae smiled shyly as another woman sitting next to her, a tiny young- looking Asian girl with curly black hair and fluorescent orange pants proceeded to introduce herself as Lisa. "I'm just like Steve. I got it through a transfusion."
The woman sitting next to Lisa was also Asian, but she looked older. Her eyes were more sunken in, and her body looked emaciated. "I'm Sue," she said quietly, her voice slightly raspy. "I have full-blown AIDS. I'm the only one here who probably won't live to see the next millennium." She smiled sadly, then continued, "but I've had this virus for close to 10 years, and I just started taking AZT about 4 years ago. I have no regrets at all. Paul was the one who helped me through everything, and my life has been wonderful."
The whole group sat in an awkward, sad silence. It was clear that Sue was not well, and that her days were definitely numbered. She didn't have very much time left.
"What an act to follow," a large, African girl said, laughing uncomfortably. "I'm Pam, and my husband and I are both infected with HIV. He refuses to come to these things. He's a bit of a homophobe, and the fact that there are gays here doesn't really appeal to him. I just like to bring back what I hear here home."
"I'm Ali," a skinny girl with a thick Irish accent and long, flowing blonde locks announced. "Pam's an old friend of mine from college, so I came here with her in the first place. I'm negative, but I like to support her and her fabulous, jackass of a husband, Ricky." She giggled slightly as she leaned over to Pam. "Just kidding, sweetie."
Angel's turn had finally come. Looking around at the group of people who had just openly shared a part of themselves, Angel felt extremely awkward. He wasn't this open about his HIV, and the only people he'd ever talked to about it were Will, Queenie and Fred. Come to think of it, those were the only people he had talked to since he'd been diagnosed. He took a deep breath, and introduced himself. "I'm Angel," he said, suddenly aware of how high his voice sounded compared to Steve, Gordon, and Paul. "What else do I have to say?" he questioned, looking to Paul for help.
Giving him a kind, genuine smile, Paul replied, "As little or as much as you like. You can stop at your name, if that's all you want to share. Nothing is required here. We're just a support group, that's all."
"Okay," Angel replied, settling back into his comfortable silence.
"Thank you for sharing, everyone. I'm sure that, with time, Angel, you'll get to know all of these people, and they'll support you just as we've all supported them. Does anybody want to discuss anything, before we begin our affirmation?"
"My T-Cell count is getting lower," Gordon blurted out in a loud, bitter voice.
"Have you been taking your AZT, Gordon?" Paul asked in a maternal way.
"No," Gordon admitted openly, chewing on one of his nails.
"Gordon, I know we've all talked about this before. Your T-Cell count won't stay stable unless you take the AZT."
"What's the point? It's not gonna cure me!" Angel gasped slightly as Gordon said that. If his voice was higher, Gordon and Angel could be the same person.
"It'll let you live longer. This is what we're talking about here: Life. None of us are dying from AIDS. We are living WITH AIDS. There's a big difference, and it's important that all of you see that," Paul preached, his voice getting louder and more intense with every powerful word.
"This is where I'll step in," Sue said, her weak raspy voice cutting in after Paul. "I am NOT dying from AIDS. I know I will someday, but until I stop breathing, I'm not dying. That's what you need to realize, Gordon. Well, all of you need to see it. You can't live every day thinking about the fact that you're gonna die. You wont' live a full life if you do that. You need to seize the day and cherish every day you're here. I know I do. Look at me," Sue said, as she used the chair for support to stand up, "I don't have that many more days, and we all know that. It's no big secret that I won't be here much longer. But the days that I have are precious. You all need to remember that. It's the secret to living."
Struck with emotion he hadn't felt in so long, Angel felt tears rolling down his cheeks. He was ashamed of himself. How could he have been so ridiculous? Here was a woman who was obviously going to die any day now, and she was as optimistic and positive as anyone could be. Her story touched him so that he remained silent for the rest of the meeting, sitting and listening to everyone else talk. He'd never gotten so much satisfaction out of simply listening.
Almost as quickly as it began, the meeting ended. The meeting concluded with a brief, yet heartfelt hug with everyone in the group. Everyone started to exit, but Angel stopped Sue on her way out.
"Sue," he said quietly, tapping her gently on the shoulder.
"Yes?" she responded, staring at Angel with her deep, sunken eyes.
"I just wanted to tell you how much your story touched me. I came into this meeting thinking like Gordon, and I'm leaving with a new outlook on everything."
Her pallid face glowed as she received the compliment, dropping her cane to hug Angel. "That means a lot to me, you know," she said, as he hugged her skin-and-bones body.
"I'm really gonna take what you said to heart. I wanna try hard to live like every day is my last. Thank you so much for sharing with me."
"Anytime, Angel. I mean that. You ever need to talk to anybody, I'm always around. I'll see you tomorrow at 9:30, right?" she asked, winking at him.
"Absolutely."
"Goodnight," she said, as Paul walked over and picked up her cane. She walked slowly out the door, shutting it behind her, leaving only Angel and Paul left in the room.
"Thank you for coming tonight, Angel. I can tell that Sue's story really meant a lot to you."
"It did. I'm so surprised how much I learned tonight. I didn't know that you could get so much out of just sitting and listening," Angel explained, speaking like a bewildered child.
"It is surprising, and very rewarding. You're always welcome at these meetings, and whenever you feel up to it, you can share as much as you want. We're a very open group, as you've seen, and the trust that we put in each other is amazing. You'll get a lot out of this. I can tell that just this one meeting has really changed you, and I like this change."
"Thank you," Angel replied, looking at him oddly. It was strange how much Paul knew about him without Angel ever having to say anything.
"No, thank you. I'll see you tomorrow at 9:30, Angel."
"Goodnight, Paul," Angel said, hugging him one last time.
"Keep your head up. Things will only get better from here," Paul promised on Angel's way out.
This time, he believed the optimism.
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A/N: I'm thinking 35 and 36 will be up by the end of the week ( I'm loving this "I don't give a crap about sports" attitude, because it gives me much more time to write! Woohoo! Review please!