Note: Okay, after a bit of thought and consideration, I decided to revise this chapter. Please review and let me know what you think of it. Also, with the exception of the last three lines, everything written in italics is two months prior to the diagnosis. Thanks!


"Collins, you got mail," Roger said.

"What? From who?"

Roger looked over the envelope and tossed it to Collins. "Queens County Hospital."

The philosopher opened the envelope and pulled out a piece of paper. Roger frowned when Collins's hands started to shake.

"Collins? You okay, man?"

Collins shook his head and dropped the letter to the table. He backed up, shaking his head.

"What? What's wrong?"

"Nothing. Nothing. I'm fine. I'm fine. It's fine. I'm fine."

"Collins, what's wrong?"


Two months earlier…

"Speak."

"Guys, it's Benny. Answer the phone. Please…"

"Benny? Where are you guys? You were supposed to be home hours ago," Mark said.

"We got in an accident."

"Oh my God."

"Collins…shit…you guys gotta come."

"What happened? Is Collins okay? Are you okay?"

"I'm fine. I-I don't know. This car just—shit…Mark, you guys gotta come. I'm freakin' out here."

"Just take a deep breath. Is Collins okay?"

"I don't know."

"What hospital?"

"Queens County."

"We'll be there in five."

"Hurry."

Mark hung up and turned to Maureen. "Where's Roger?"

"Band rehearsal, where else? It's where he always is lately."

"Call him."

"What?"

"Call him now. Collins and Benny were in an accident. You and I are going. I'll get our shit. Call him and tell him to meet us at Queens Hospital."


"They-they think…the accident…they—shit…the blood…fuck…"

"Col, what? They think what?"

Collins looked at Roger, tears pooling in his eyes. "They think I have AIDS."

"What?"

"The transfusion…"


"Where is he?" Roger asked, running into the waiting room. Mark jumped from his seat.

"He's in surgery."

"Surgery? Jesus, what the hell happened?"

"There was a car accident."

"Benny okay?"

"Yeah, yeah he's okay. Maureen dragged him downstairs to get some coffee. Cuts and bruises, other than that he's okay."

"How is that possible?" Roger asked, running a hand through his hair.

Mark sighed, shrugging. "I don't know, man. Benny said the car that hit them slammed into the passenger side, where Collins was sitting…"

"Fuck."

A doctor came in. "Mr. Cohen?"

"Yes, yes, I'm Mr. Cohen. How is he?"

The doctor pursed his lips. "He lost a lot of blood in the accident. He required multiple transfusions throughout the surgery. We were able to stop the internal bleeding and set the broken bones of his wrist."

"What? What's that look for?" Roger asked.

"Roger, calm down."

"No. He's got that look. That look doctors all get when they don't want to tell you something. Now what is it?"

"As I said, Mr. Collins lost a lot of blood in the accident. We'll need to keep him in the intensive care unit for the time being. He's still unconscious and we need to keep a close eye on him."

"What the fuck does that mean?"

"It means that we've done the best we can and the rest depends on Mr. Collins's will."


Roger grabbed the paper from Collins and read it over. Collins must've read it wrong. He had to have read it wrong.

"I have to go for a test."

Collins sank to the floor as Roger began to pace, a strange calmness washing over him. Roger didn't cope with his own problems well, but he usually managed to keep a level head when other people were having a crisis.

"Okay, deep breaths. Um…first thing we're going to do is stay calm. I'm going to call the guys and cancel practice."

Collins shook his head.

"Don't argue. I'm canceling practice. One cancelled practice won't be the end of the band. Then, I'm takin' you to the clinic to get tested."

"I can't. I can't get that test," Collins said, still shaking his head.

"You have to."

"I can't, Roger. If I get that test and I find out…if I find out that I have it, I'll know I'm dying."

"Collins, you have to. Please. They can give you medicine, even if the test comes back positive. I mean, they'll treat you. There's stuff they can do. There are treatments."

"Yeah, to prolong the inevitable."

"Collins, seriously, please. Let's go, okay?"

Collins thought for a minute and nodded. "One condition."

"What?"

"No telling Mark or Maureen or Benny. I don't want them worrying for no reason."


Three weeks later, Collins's test results came back positive. As the stunned men made their way back to the loft, Roger clutched the prescriptions and information pamphlets in his hand. Collins stayed silent until they were almost at the loft. He stopped and turned to Roger.

"This changes everything."

"But it'll be okay."

"Not really, boy, but thanks," Collins said with a small smile. He blinked back tears. "Will I lose my dignity?"

"What?"

"This...the HIV...the AIDS...I know what people think of people with AIDS…I know…I know what they say…I know what they think…" Collins took a breath and wiped the tears from his eyes.

"Collins, I'm not sure what you're asking me."

"Will I lose my dignity?

Will someone care?

Will I wake tomorrow from this nightmare?"