A/N: I hope the reasoning here makes sense, anyway, we'll see. Think of this as the calm before the storm (well, the boring before the interesting…haha)
"Hi," Roger meekly replied. He was sensing this was going to become a very uncomfortable conversation very quickly.
"My mom says you might be my guitar teacher!" Jacob's smile beamed even brighter.
Roger was backed up against a wall. He saw Savannah's expression, it was the same as Jacob's. As for Collins, he looked disappointed. Collins was disappointed in him just like everyone else in is life. Roger couldn't bring himself to let down a little kid, not with all the times he'd been let down. "Yeah, Savannah, errr, your mother and I have to work out a time," he replied, basically lying through his teeth. He couldn't believe what he was signing himself up for.
"Yes!" Jacob jumped up and down. Roger sighed, "Oh what fun this is going to be," he whispered to himself through pursedlips.
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The life support meeting was long, literally. It ran half an hour over its usual hour. Roger didn't mind at first, though. As people shared their sob stories, he found himself gaining that self confidence that maybe his life wasn't as bad as he thought, just maybe. That was until Savannah talked.
Savannah had been attending the meetings for several weeks now, however this was the first week she was sharing her story. She held back the tears forming in her eyes, but never once let one fall. Savannah's story was almost tragic. She in fact did not have AIDS, and wasn't an HIV carrier. However, her 9 year old son had been infected 2 and a half years before in a horrific accident.
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Jacob had fallen off the swings at school one day. He was taken to the hospital directly from school. His knee was bent in such a way when he fell, that it was scraped almost to the bone as he landed. He was transported by ambulance to the nearest hospital and quickly bandaged up.
5 months after the incident, Jacob had fallen ill with an almost fatal case of pneumonia. The doctors did a full blood work-up when they couldn't find what had caused a perfectly healthy boy to fall ill with pneumonia in the early fall. During an extensive blood workup, tests uncovered startling news. Jacob was a carrier of the HIV virus, and his T-Cell count was already falling. Savannah spent days at Jacob's bedside as she was asked lists of questions about her history. The doctors assumed Savannah was a carrier before the tests were yet to confirm such accusations, and even though they knew the timetable didn't match up.
With her negative test results in one hand, and her young, ill son's hand in the other, a startling connection was made by a young, introspective doctor. 5 months before an incident report had been recorded; an EMT was suspended for examining a patient without gloves, and one comment on the citation sheet noted a possible open wound on the EMT in question's hand. A month later the same EMT was let go for not disclosing her HIV status. While the results were "inconclusive" as the doctors told her, after months of research, long phone calls, and constant questioning, there were no other clues. No matter what happened however, her son was never going to be the same bright-eyed little boy anymore.
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As she finished, Savannah apologized for causing the meeting to run so late. Tissues dabbed eyes, and feet shuffled. No one wanted to leave on such a sad note. There was dead silence as a little boy walked into the room, and walked up behind Savannah. It was Jacob.
"Can we go yet mom? The lady in the art room says I have to go before I kill another tree," he whispered in his mother's ear, but the entire group could hear in the dead silence. His dirty blonde hair had specks of blue, red, and green paint in it, and there was a line of orange paint down the side of his face to match.
The group let out a light chuckle as frowns turned to weak smiles. The meeting was adjourned with the usual "See you next week" speech as everyone returned the chairs back to their linear form.
Savannah sent Jake back to the art room to pick up his paintings and drawings. Roger was talking with Collins as Savannah walked up. Collins excused himself and walked over to talk with an old friend from the group, a sly smile on his face. Roger made another mental note to get back at Collins as soon as they got out of there, like he had forgotten the other six.
"I have to apologize about earlier, I didn't really tell the whole truth," Savannah wrung her hands, checking if Jacob was walking back. "Jacob's had over three guitar teachers this month alone, and every single one has only lasted for one day," Savannah checked a last time to see if Jacob was coming. "Every teacher sees him and instantly labels him as the kid with AIDS. They're all scared to teach him, they seem to think they'll somehow get it." Savannah smiled a little, it was her defense against the pain.
Roger just returned the same fake see-through smile, biting his tongue as hard as he could as the conversation continued.
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"There you are!" Mark shouted as Roger opened the heavy metal door of the loft, leading Collins in.
"I told you he was going to call the cops if we didn't get back soon," Collins joked, shoving Roger a little.
"How did you get him out of here?" Mark questioned Collins, who went straight for the worn out couch.
"A good ol' guilt trip," Collins sighed as he put his head back and rested his hat over his eyes.
"Do you think that's a good idea?" Mark asked Collins in a loud whisper.
"I'm in the room, you know!" Roger interjected as he slammed down the glass of water he was just about to drink. The plastic cup hit the wooden table with a hollow thud, as the water splashed up over the sides. "Why the hell does everyone think it's their job to organize my life all the time?" Roger left for the back bedroom in his usual drama queen huff.
"Just remind him about Monday at seven if I'm not around before then." Collins stood up and put his hat back on his head and made his way towards the door. "Bye Mark."
"Wait, what are you talking about Collins?" Mark asked in his usual 'over attentive mother' tone.
"Oh, don't worry," Collins opened the door of the loft. "He'll know what you mean." The sly smile returned to Collins' face.