The warmth of the centre immediately washes over me as we step through the doors and I shiver as the cool air leaves my skin. I'm struck again by how welcoming it is and how the walls are covered with positive images and posters of acceptance. The front desk area itself is more formal hosting a computer, stacks of paper and an area filled with waiting-room style chairs.
"Now, you've already seen the front office – how about we start with the resource room?" Peeta starts, motioning with his hand towards a room off to the left of the hallway. I struggle momentarily to remove my scarf and jacket while still holding the pamphlets before I drop them all and let out an exasperated groan. Peeta only laughs lightly and takes my jacket from me, hanging it up in the front while I collect my papers. "Don't worry – it's okay to be overwhelmed at first. I have that effect on people."
Another joke. I can't help but snort a laugh.
"Good. Laughter. That's a good sign. Okay, so-" He leads me into a large room that's lined with bookcases and cupboards and open wooden desks with plastic chairs. Each desk features a canister of craft supplies and a packet of markers. "This is the resource room where we do practically everything. Informational pamphlets are over here, reading materials are here," He points out the row of bookcases that feature a huge variety of literature on not only HIV and AIDS but other STIs as well. "Over in this area," he pauses as he opens a cupboard door to reveal stacks upon stacks of plastic bins. "Is where we have our needle exchange kits. If you need them, you just come and grab it – Used materials go here but we don't allow using on the property, just so you know."
"Oh – no. No." I state and hold up my hands backing away from the cupboard. "It's not like that!" I insist and look at him with my eyes wide. Peeta only shrugs.
"That's fine – we're a judgement free place. Just want to show you your options is all," he explains and moves on to the next cupboard after closing the first one with a click. "This one here is a pretty popular one – pet supplies. If you need anything, try finding it here first. We get a lot of donations for this project as it's the first and only one in the city."
I nod my head, taking in the idea but not completely understanding why this place would have a pet supply cabinet. Peeta must notice the look of confusion on my face because he smiles and pulls out a dog's chew toy which he squeezes quickly, eliciting the sharp noise.
"Animals are sometimes the only relationships people with positive status can keep. Social stigmas and fear create a lot of barriers. That coupled with the financial difficulties – it's good to have a place where people can get food for their best friend, even if they can't afford it, you know?" Placing the toy back on the shelf, Peeta shuts the cabinet door as I'm digesting his explanation.
It seems so simple – such a positive way to look at a hard situation. The idea of a pet cupboard is beyond thoughtful but it's not that that makes my chest tighten. It's the other factors he mentioned – the hard situations that Prim is going to face in the coming months. The coming years. He sees it on my face – I know because he mirrors the sad look for just a second – before he moves me back out into the hallway.
"Down here," he starts again, thankfully disregarding my reaction. "We have the offices. Regional and district volunteers work out of here – you can talk to them anytime you need to. If you want to make appointments or need references, you can set up times with reception. They're varied but these guys know what's up – social services, government programs, workplace issues – you name it, they can help. I'd recommend Haymitch Abernathy if you can get past the attitude."
Stepping down a bit further Peeta leads me into the open space I saw when I first stepped through the doors. The room is twice the size of the resource space and filled with more book shelves, a flat screen TV, refreshments near the back and more couches and comfortable chairs than a Leon's. Though the space is empty, I can just imagine what this place must look like on the counselling nights that Prim's doctor, Andrew Cinna, mentioned during our briefing.
"It's not much," Peeta starts as he turns back to face me. I hold up my hand and step past him into the room, taking a moment to look at the tiles filled with drawings on the walls and a large piece of fabric that covers a whole wall.
"It's perfect," I whisper and stand, stoic, in the middle of the room.
Peeta doesn't say any more as I let myself come to terms with the idea of spending a lot of time here. Though the thought is terrifying and reality shaking, I know that it's for the best. I know that Prim will love it and that she'll benefit from this. Because Prim needs people and the most terrifying thing about her being sick, apart from what she's sick with, is that she'll lose that spark.
I couldn't bear to see her lose that.
Peeta leaves me to wander through the space for a little, offering apologies when the phone at the front desk rings. I'm thankful for it, at least, to get a moment to let it all settle without the flurry that he causes in me when he's near.
When I finally make my way back out to the front, he's sitting in front of the computer screen and typing away with a thick-rimmed pair of glasses on. His hair is mussed and his brow is furrowed as he navigates through the system. Noticing I'm there, the frown dissipates and he smiles again, shifting his glasses off his face and looking up at me.
"Will we see you again, Katniss?" He asks hopefully and I can't help but return the smile he shares.
"I think so. Just gotta convince one other person..." I mumble and although that's my perfect chance to exit, my feet don't seem to carry me away. Instead they stay rooted, hoping for more interaction with this blue-eyed man.
"Oh?" He counters and though the smile remains, his eyes shelter just a little. "Is it your boyfriend? We've got a great couples night on-" Pausing he flips through a calendar on the desk and I can't hold my laugh.
"No, no. Nope. Not a chance. My sister, Primrose. That's who I'm here for." I state and he looks up, meeting my eyes. I can't make out the look he's giving me now – it's a mixture of sadness, disappointment, and maybe a little admiration.
I don't understand it. But then I've never been very good at understanding people.
"Well, then I hope we see you soon. Here's our card – if you need anything, if she has questions, just give us a call, alright?" The kindness is there, but the brightness has disappeared. I nod, and slip the card in with the rest of my pamphlets.
"Thank you Peeta, for everything today." I don't stick around after that, instead making my way down the street to my car in record time. Once I'm in the driver's seat, buckled in with the radio blaring, I finally let my anger out and slam my fists on the steering wheel.
This was not supposed to happen. Not to my sweet Prim. She was too good – too smart – too safe. She'd never hurt a fly in her life and now this. What was worse was that now I was driving around looking for centres because she, like our mother, didn't want to get out of bed after bad news. I'd half-hoped when she called me, through my tears of course, that she would have it together. I mean, she was calling me and telling me after so long.
I'd left Prim here to go to school in Portland, Oregon. The other side of the country and what might as well have been the other side of the world. When Prim called me right after winter exams were over to tell me she'd tested positive for HIV, I'd been shell-shocked. She'd claimed she'd held off telling me until my exams were over because she wanted me to finish the year but that she'd found out in January. Her news had nearly killed me inside. I hadn't waited for her to tell me anymore – instead I'd opened my barely-working laptop and booked the soonest flight home that I could afford.
I left that night telling my roommate Madge to sell off whatever she didn't need and that I wouldn't be coming back for the foreseeable future. She'd been pissed, but I knew she'd be fine. Prim was more important.
When I'd gotten home, I'd discovered that Prim was living just as well as I'd left her, maybe even a little better with the money I'd sent back. Our small apartment was still barren but she'd added a few plants and a nice throw over the couch.
We'd sat on that couch and cried for the first few hours. Everything had seemed dreary, but almost like it was going to be alright.
That is until the next day when she did what she's done since I've gotten back – laid in bed and only moved to use the washroom. Since then, it's been like I've had to talk her into everything. Every meal, every shower, every doctor's appointment – all negotiated.
But I really shouldn't complain. This never should have happened. It was never in the cards. I guess it was luck of the draw. Prim was always so good – I couldn't understand how this had happened even though she told me she'd only went to get tested because an ex-boyfriend had contacted her and said she'd needed to. Turns out she'd likely had it for years – since just after I left – but she hadn't been showing symptoms.
Until now. Now that she knew, it was like her symptoms had blossomed overnight. Like she had the never-ending flu. Her doctor Cinna, who had been a lifeline in this storm, had said it was likely a combination of stress and the virus that was intensifying her situation. He'd recommended finding a support system and getting her mind past it and back into her normal life. A normal life for a young woman with HIV.
"How am I supposed to do that, Katniss?" Prim spat, finally sitting up in her bed and scowling at me. "How do I go back to my pre-med program and say 'Hey guys, my blood is toxic, can I operate on you?'" She was raging now, only hurting herself with her words. I stood in the doorway, dumbfounded with her discarded breakfast tray still in my hands. I'd only brought it up as a suggestion and now she was screaming.
I'd never seen my Prim like this.
It had been that episode that had made me call Cinna and ask for recommendations. Posi+ive had been my third stop the next day.
AN: I'm super excited to announce that I'll be working with Opaque, a reader well versed in the subject of HIV/AIDS care who is doing an amazing job at betaing this story for me so that it gets it right and, well, she corrects my horrendous tense problem too! I can't promise that updates will be this quick or regular, but I wanted to get this out as a thank you to all my celebrating readers on this American Thanksgiving (I know there's a lot of you!) Happy Turkey Day! And happy Hanukkah to all those celebrating this too! You're all amazing and the best, ily.