Chapter Twenty Three

The evening started perfect. In hindsight, that should have been her first warning sign. But she was high on love, then on fame and adrenaline (an item on the Village Voice!) to really take notice, and so when the plot twist arrived, it hit her full force.

When she first saw him approach behind Mark, she thought she was imagining it. It had taken a while for his image to dissipate in the aftermath of the divorce; she still pretended to see him in dark corners every now and again. So she simply thought it was the case this time as well. Only it wasn't. Even before he'd confirmed it later in the evening, she knew right away he must be the guy Mark had told her about the week before, the one he had befriended in Life who was HIV positive, and if he was HIV positive –

She barely had time to blink when Mark suddenly disappeared and they were left alone.

"So how have you been?" he asked her as if it hadn't been six years, and she didn't know whether she should laugh or cry at the banality of it. However, he didn't wait for her reply. "I suppose congratulations are in order. I hope he makes you happier than I ever could."

"He already does," she heard herself reply, her voice shockingly steady. She wanted to ask him, knew she had to ask him, but couldn't find the words. And either way, once again, he got ahead of her. With that charming smile, the one she'd fallen in love with him for, he asked,

"So I've got a daughter, huh?"

And as much as she needed to know the truth, she couldn't stay there one second longer.

It was chilly on the balcony, but it made her feel grounded. She stared at the glass of bourbon she didn't remember ordering at the bar. She took a tiny sip and winced. It'd been years since she'd consumed anything stronger than wine. It wasn't making her numb; if anything, it was making her giddier, which really wasn't helping things. Panic was already taking over. She could feel it in her increasing heart rate, the way her head was spinning, her sweaty palms. She knew she mustn't fall apart, not here. Tonight was so important to Mark, she couldn't possibly –

Hours later, and she couldn't sleep. She slipped out of bed and wandered barefoot into Mark's study. She wrapped herself in the purple throw she'd left there just the day before and took deep breaths, willing herself to calm down. But her mind was too alert, her head still reeling, her body too on edge. And tears were finally coming, streaming down her cheeks. It felt as if there was no hope, only fear and uncertainty; everything was over before it had barely begun. Because if Andy was HIV positive – Did that mean she was, as well? When Mark had freaked out about her being pregnant several weeks earlier, neither of them even considered the other risks, but now... Had she unknowingly transmitted it to him? A chill ran down her spine at a more terrifying notion. Was Libby HIV positive?

She pressed her knees to her chest and buried her head between them. She hoped Mark was asleep, but if he wasn't, she didn't want him to hear her cry. He was so shaken by the whole thing as it was. She almost didn't want to tell him at first, knowing exactly the reaction it would entail, but she knew she had to, couldn't hold it in any longer.

"Andy is my ex-husband," she said again, after the first time saying it elicited absolutely no response.

He stared at her blankly for a split second before the words and their consequences finally sank in. All color drained from his face as it crumbled into this broken expression, the one she'd hoped she would never have to face again. "Oh my God, Maureen," he murmured, slowly wrapping his arms around her. His silent tears soaked through the thin material of her nightshirt. All she could do was gently rub his back and think how she'd hurt him again, after vowing she would never do so again.

"I'm so sorry," she whispered brokenly now.

"Don't. You've got nothing to be sorry about."

She looked up with a start. There was Mark, leaning against the doorway, carrying two steaming mugs. He flashed a crooked grin at her in wordless apology. "Can I come in?"

"Of course." It was his study, so the question felt redundant; and yet she appreciated him for asking permission. He sat beside her on the sofa and handed her one of the mugs. Hot chocolate, not tea like she'd assumed. She sniffed its delicious aroma and absentmindedly wondered how long she'd been sitting there and how come she didn't hear him in the kitchen.

"You couldn't sleep either, huh?" he asked quietly, but she could hear beyond his casual tone. He was testing the water. They hardly spoke at all the previous night, between tears and broken sentences that made little sense. All in all, she hadn't told him all that much about Andy; it was always too painful to open up. Now she braced herself, knowing she would have to share more. It seemed only fair, given the circumstances.

He reached for her hand, lacing their fingers together before giving it a squeeze. "We don't have to talk about it if you don't want to."

"I don't," she admitted, "but we kind of have to." She let go of his hand so she could wrap both her hands around the mug. "What the hell are we going to do?"

"Stay calm, first of all. There's no point panicking over nothing."

She stared at him incredulously. "Stay calm? Mark, we might be HIV positive!"

"We might be, but there's no point stressing until we know for sure, and even then." Then he flashed a sardonic grin at her. "The perks of being in Life for all this time. I have a list of clinics we can get tested in, first thing tomorrow. And when Libby returns, we'll get her tested as well. We'll take it from there, one step at the time. Although I'm pretty sure..."

But she barely heard him; her eyes narrowed at the mention of her daughter's name. "If my little girl is HIV positive, I swear to God I'll – "

"Hey. Don't swear until we know for sure."

She wanted to protest, but knew he was right. She took a deep breath, then sipped her mug. "Did he… You said you were close. Did he tell you when – "

"No," he replied softly. "I already went through everything in my head. Which is probably why I couldn't sleep. He never got into specifics. He said something about seven years of bad luck, that his last serious relationship was a disaster. In hindsight he was obviously talking about you."

"He knew we were engaged. Did you tell him about Libby?"

"Not in so many words. I didn't even mention you by name. I just said my fiancée had a daughter. He didn't seem too keen on kids so it seemed pointless to elaborate."

"Then that's why he told me…" Her voice trailed off. She wasn't too proud about fleeing the scene. Maybe if she stayed, uncertainties would not be as overwhelming now. Mark didn't press her to complete her thought, but she knew he was wondering.

"You never told me what it was like," he said quietly after a moment of silence. He hesitated, then locked his gaze with hers. "Did he… Did it ever get physical?"

"Only once," she replied, not looking away. "And then I left."

He shook his head, and she could only imagine the mental images his filmmaker's mind conjured at her confession. "I'm so sorry I left you alone with him."

"You didn't know. I didn't exactly open up about all that. I still don't think I'm ready to."

"Take all the time you need, Maureen." He hesitated again, and she knew he was preparing himself to tell her something he knew she wouldn't like. "If he was HIV positive when you were married, whether he knew it or not, and if you were infected, you would have known."

"What makes you so sure?"

"Libby."

That wave of fury filled her again; her eyes filled with tears. She remembered their conversation on New Year, in the exact same spot. I don't want her to ever get hurt. And then she realized that Mark was wrong. Libby was just the reason Andy might have been sick when they were married. "Maybe this is just it," she said.

Mark blinked, confused. "What?"

"He didn't want me to have her. Maybe he knew something I didn't."

Mark considered what to her seemed a reasonable explanation, and then said, "Okay, it does sound plausible, I guess, but why would he risk it in the first place? If he was sick before he married you and he knew it, why didn't he tell you?" Then something else seemed to occur to him. "Besides, and that was my original point, you would have known if you were HIV positive when you became pregnant. It would have come up in the endless bloodwork they must have done on you." It was as good an explanation as any, she supposed, but she was too numb to really take it all in. And there were some more urgent matters to tend to than delve into the past. "What will we tell Libby to get her tested?"

"Don't worry about it now. Just… don't freak out, okay? We don't know anything for certain. And you're not alone in this, I'm not going anywhere."

"I'm still sort of waiting for you to run off screaming," she sheepishly admitted. She brought the mug closer to her lips, only to discover it was empty.

"A wise person told me recently that if I can't stop this from happening, at least I could be there for people."

"She sounds fabulous, maybe you should marry her," she said through a new bout of tears. He murmured her name as he pulled her into his arms, letting her cry into his shoulder. He let his fingers tangle in her hair, running through it comfortingly.

"I can't get my head around this," he said over her head. "I felt such a connection to him. Now I'm just… I don't know." She didn't know how long they were half sitting, half lying there, holding each other. "Let's go back to bed," he said after a while, his voice thick with sleep.

She thought she'd never be able to sleep, not until matters were resolved, but she let him pull her into a standing position and followed him into the kitchen where they left the mugs in the sink. She tried very hard not to think as they passed Libby's empty bedroom.

"It's going to be okay," was the last time she remembered him telling her before sinking into a frenzied slumber.

When she woke up the next morning, she was alone in bed. She found Mark in the kitchen, sipping coffee while leaning over a map of the city that was spread on the counter.

"It's a blood test, Mark, not a treasure hunt." He turned to face her, his face haggard as hers just seemed in the mirror. Neither of them got much sleep the night before. "What are you doing?"

"Trying to figure out which of these will be open on a Sunday," he replied, nodding towards his list by the map. "Have some coffee, it helps."

"I need to answer some work emails before we go. Ask Arianna to cover for me this morning if something comes up."

"It's fine, we'll go as soon as you're ready." He barely finished his sentence when his own phone chimed. He grabbed it, briefly read the text he'd just received, then typed something in reply.

"Is everything okay?"

"Yeah, fine, just…" His voice trailed off as he continued to text. She couldn't help wondering whom he was talking to. Did any of his friends in Life know what was going on? She wasn't sure she wanted to know the answer.

Then they were finally on their way, riding the subway to the World Trade Center of all places. Mark insisted that all the clinics in their vicinity were closed on the weekend, and she was pretty sure he was making this up, but didn't argue. They hardly spoke on the way there, both being too emotionally drained from the previous night, and she still busy with a few work correspondences. From the corner of her eye she saw Mark texting every now and again, but his expression remained unreadable.

The clinic was on a side street nestled between the Stock Exchange and Trinity Church, so tiny and unassuming she would have walked right passed it if she were on her own. A smiling receptionist took their names and handed them paperwork to fill, telling them a volunteer would be with them shortly. Then they were left alone, exchanging tense smiles.

In an exam room, a woman in scrubs peeked at the form they had just filled, then took their blood, and as she left the room with their test tubes, a tall man walked in.

"Sorry, I had another patient waiting for me. I'm Noah." He consulted the forms his colleague handed to him on her way out. "Mark and Maureen. You're both feeling alright? Dizzy, nausea, anything else amiss?"

"We're fine," said Mark before she could admit she was feeling faint. He reached for her hand and squeezed it reassuringly.

"Let's go over the info you provided before we can send you on your way, then." She took a deep breath. She really wasn't in the mood for a lecture. Luckily he kept his tone businesslike rather than judgmental as he asked them to elaborate on some of the questions in the form. Mark answered most of them, and while normally she may have resented him answering for her, today she couldn't feel more grateful for his presence. Noah seemed impressed by his resume with Life, and listened attentively as Mark explained what brought him there. It was a wonder they didn't have any shared acquaintances.

Then she realized Noah had addressed her, and was still awaiting her reply. "I'm sorry, what?"

"He's your ex-husband, and you haven't seen him for how long?"

"Six years, until last night."

"It wasn't an amiable divorce, I take it?"

"That's one way to put it."

"Sorry, I know this is awkward, but we need to be as thorough about this as possible."

"It's fine," she said, dismissing his concern. She cleared her throat, just wanting to get this over with. "We have a child together. But she's never met him."

"So you raised her by yourself?" She nodded, unable to speak for a moment as she saw Libby yet again in her mind's eye. Noah's expression remained neutral. Then his eyes darted to Mark. "Then you are…?"

"We're engaged. And I also befriended him in Life without knowing he was Maureen's husband."

"Is it even possible I'm HIV positive without knowing it for so long?" she abruptly cut Mark off, tired of the technicalities.

"I want you to try and remember. I know it's been years, but take your time. While you were married, do you remember a time you experienced any flu-like symptoms?"

"Honestly, it's all a blur," she apologized, feeling lame for not being able to provide better input. "Probably not? I'm not sick all that often. I had phenomena about three years ago?" It came out as a question rather than a statement, although she remembered it vividly, and only because she was feeling so wretched. She had to miss opening night for the production she was working on at the time, as well as find someone to care for Libby, who was very young.

"Okay, that's good," said Noah, glancing at her while scribbling something on their form. "Usually after the display of symptoms, the virus sort of lays dormant, although damage is still being done under the surface, which might be the case here. Potentially you might have transmitted it to your daughter during your pregnancy or via breastmilk. That being said, I'm assuming you had bloodwork done between then and now, it should have come up." From the corner of her eye she could see Mark nodding; that was his guess the other night, as well. Somehow that didn't comfort her in the slightest. "How about more recently? Unexpected bouts of weakness, exhaustion, drastic loss of weigh?"

Her heart stopped, then began to beat twice as fast. She felt as if the room was closing in on her. "Yeah," she replied slowly. She could feel Mark's eyes on her, but couldn't bring herself to face him. "Right before we moved back here. I had a lot on my mind because of work and the move. I thought it was just stress." It sounded like an excuse because now it dawned on her she'd witnessed all this before, had seen Roger undergo those exact symptoms. You should have known better, she scolded herself.

"It may be just that, I'm just trying to be thorough, like I said." Noah hesitated, then flashed a crooked grin at the two of them. "Just when you thought it couldn't get more awkward. Has either of you had other partners in that time frame you had unprotected sex with, anyone else that should be informed about this in case you test positive?"

She was barely paying attention to Mark's reply. It was a moment before she even realized they were both looking at her, awaiting her reply. It was all so surreal; she could barely breathe. "Just my daughter."

"And where is she?"

"She spent the night at my parents'. They'll bring her back this afternoon."

"If you can get her here tomorrow morning, I'll be here."

"Of course," said Mark.

"She can't stand needles," she whispered, holding back with all her might.

"Don't worry. I've worked with kids for many years, I've seen it all. I promise I won't leave her side, okay?" All she could do was nod. "We'll have the results back in a few days. We have tests that take less than that but given your circumstances, I'd like to be thorough."

"Sounds good," said Mark.

"Get some rest. You both look as if you need it."

It was barely eleven as they found their way into Broadway, blinking as they stepped into the bright sunshine. She searched her bag for her sunglasses, then slipped them on. From the corner of her eye she noticed Mark turning in the opposite direction to where she'd intended to go. "The subway station is that way," she noted.

"Oh, we're not going home yet."

"We're not?"

"Did you really think I'll drag you all the way downtown just for a blood test? There's a clinic two blocks from our place."

She knew it! "Then why..."

"The best patisserie in Manhattan, that way." She just stared after him in shock. What did she ever do to deserve him? "Well, are you coming?"

Armed with strong coffee and a box filled with bite sized cupcakes, they entered Battery Park and found a bench overlooking the Statue of Liberty, away from the crowds waiting for the ferry. She licked banana frosting off her finger and looked at the water, embracing the sugary distraction. Mark was just telling her about his sister coming to the gallery the other day. It appeared he had quite an eventful day himself before all hell broke loose that evening.

"So will that be okay? Them coming to dinner sometime? I'd like you to meet at least one of my relatives who isn't set on breaking this off."

He said it in jest, but his bitterness came through quite clearly. "Sure, I guess. Although I expect I won't be great company until we get this thing sorted." She stopped to sip her coffee, hesitating before she continued. "So it's Cindy you've been texting earlier?"

"Uhhh no," he replied slowly, and his cheeks colored as if he felt busted. "I was actually texting your mom for a bit. Then Oliver."

"My mom?" she echoed. She wasn't mad, just surprised.

"I got her number from your phone while you were sleeping. They needed to know, Maureen. You were a wreck the other night. I'm sorry if I was overstepping."

She leaned over to peck his lips. "You're unbelievable, in the best way possible. I wouldn't even know what to say. How did she take it?"

"It's hard to tell with texts," he replied, but there was certain evasiveness about him. "They'll bring Libby back around five." He sipped his coffee, then asked, "Will you take tomorrow off?"

"Absolutely not," she replied without a hint of hesitation. "I haven't got the time to wallow in misery, I have a crazy week ahead."

A shadow of a smile crossed his face. "There you are," he said softly, fondly. She nodded, then yawned. "Do you want to head home, get some sleep?"

"I don't think I'll be able to sleep," she admitted. Being so open and vulnerable almost felt like an out of body experience, but he made it so easy.

"I still have some sleeping pills I was prescribed once; I can find them for you."

"Let's stay here a little longer," she pleaded, wishing to forget about their grim reality for as long as possible.

By the time they got home, her entire body was aching with exhaustion, and she was ready to go to bed. She couldn't remember the last time she took a nap in the middle of the day like that, but those were special circumstances. She made a mental note to speak to Arianna later; she would have to say something, for already she had the feeling the next few days would be weird. Luckily there was a busy week ahead, so that would be a blessed distraction. She hoped.

She didn't even have to ask Mark to stay with her. She sank into sleep almost immediately, snuggling as close to him as she could, but when she next resurfaced, the room was dark, and Mark wasn't there. She sat up and blinked into the shadows. What time was it? Where was her phone? Just when she contemplated getting up and taking a shower, the door creaked open, the sliver of light from the hallway illuminating the small figure who peeked inside.

"Mommy?"

"Hi, baby, come in." Libby hesitated by the door, clinging to Roger. "Come in, it's okay." She watched her little girl come closer and climb onto the bed. For the first time in years, she could actually see Andy in her, just a hint of him. She sent the thought away as she gathered her daughter into her arms, breathing her in. "I missed you."

"Are you sick again, Mommy?" Libby's hazel eyes were filled with dread.

"Just a little tired. Did you have fun with grandpa and grandma?"

"They have squirrels in their backyard. And grandma has pretty dolls." Her mother's doll collection was legendary, the story of their surviving a very bumpy road from England a family myth. "Grandpa said you went to a party. Did you have fun?"

Tears stung her eyes; it was too dark for Libby to notice. She took a deep breath before replying, "We had the best time." She steeled herself, then said, "Libby, tomorrow morning before school we have to go downtown for a bit."

"Are we going on a trip?"

"No, baby, we have to go to a clinic and get you checked out."

"Do we have to?"

"Yes. But there's nothing to be afraid of, I'll be with you the whole time."

"Will it hurt?"

"Only for a second. Like when we got your ears pierced last summer, remember? But you can squeeze my hand as hard as you want, just like you did that day, okay?" She held her daughter's gaze, drawing strength from her presence as she'd always done. She thought back of the previous night, of Andy's almost smug smile as he asked, So I've got a daughter, huh?

There was nothing to be afraid of. They would be fine. All three of them. Libby was hers.

Now she just had to keep telling herself that.