Taking one last look in the smaller hand mirror that Davy had affixed to the wall behind his bed, Davy decided that he was looking as good as he ever was going to be. Mike and Peter would be coming home tomorrow, so Micky had suggested that they go out to dance or something. Micky had been itching to go out dancing for sometime. Although Davy had no real interest in going out, he'd agreed to accompany Micky anyways. Why on earth he did so was beyond him. Maybe he felt sorry for Micky because, if Davy didn't go with him, he'd be all alone. And dancing alone was never fun. Coming out of his room, Davy found Micky lying upside down on the couch, his face flushed with blood. He must have been like that for some time for his face to look so red.
"You ready?" Micky asked, his position frozen.
"Yeah," Davy nodded his head, feeling only slightly apprehensive.
Just then, the phone rang. Davy hesitated for a moment, just to see if Micky would answer, but there was no movement from the drummer. He stayed motionless, still hanging upside down on the couch.
"I'll get it," Davy sighed, heading into the kitchen and picking up the phone on the third ring, "Hello?"
"Hey," a familiar voice drawled, "Davy! Just the guy I was looking for. Look, it's Tommy, ya, and, boy, have I got a proposition for you, my guy. You want me to pick you up in twenty minutes, and we'll go to this holiday party I was invited to. There's gonna be a ton of girls there and word on the street is that no one's seen you around in a while. So I'm betting you may or may not need a chick for the night. Am I right or am I right? So you, I'll pick you up, yeah."
Tommy Morrison. Davy hadn't heard his voice, over the phone or otherwise, in what seemed like ages. He was one of Davy's straight friends. Being the sociable guy Davy naturally was, he made friends easily, but his friends rarely ever crossed paths with one another. Davy had his gay friends and then he had his straight friends. Now Tommy Morrison thought of himself as Davy's best friend in the whole universe and for the life of Davy he couldn't convince the man otherwise. It wasn't true, in fact Davy didn't particularly enjoy Tommy's company unless they were both high and Tommy was also drunk. And despite the fact that Davy knew Tommy was asking Davy if he wanted to come to this holiday party with him, it felt more as if Tommy already expected Davy to come with him. Davy glanced over at Micky, who was still upside down on the couch. Could he just ditch Micky like this? But the thought of going into a specifically gay club made Davy's skin crawl. He'd be miserable and disgusted because every man there would remind Davy of Peter.
"Sure, I'll see you soon," he said into the phone.
Davy felt his stomach churn. Was he really going to ditch Micky? It wasn't fair to his curly haired lover but Davy knew that if he went with Micky, he'd drain the fun out of the evening. Davy was in no mood to go to a club and dance.
"Amazing, baby, just amazing, I'll see you then," Tommy crowed before the line went dead.
Davy replaced the phone into it's cradle. Why had he said that? Why had he agreed? Because looking at Micky made his skin crawl. Because if he went with Micky, his skin would crawl away from him. He turned around to face Micky.
"Who was that?" Micky asked as he tried to get into a sitting position but ultimately he failed.
"A friend of mine," the feeling of guilt roiled inside of Davy, "Look, Mick, is it alright if I go to a Christmas party with my friend? It was sort of last minute…"
With his first try a failure, Micky decided to just let himself fall off the couch.
"Sure you can, Davy," Micky replied after he clambered to his feet, "I mean, we can go to the club any time we want to. So we can take a raincheck tonight."
The sincerity in which Micky replied made Davy smile, though it didn't make Davy feel any less guilty. Micky was a sweet guy. They were all sweet guys, his friends. So why did he feel so guilty around them?
"Thanks, man," Davy went over to Micky and hugged him, "I promise we'll go dancing sometime soon."
"You just have fun at this Christmas party," Micky placed a kiss onto Davy's cheek, "And make sure to have fun. But not too much fun."
Micky winked, his classic dopey grin plastered on his face.
"I'll have lots of fun with you out of the picture," Davy teased, although he knew his heart wasn't into the banter this evening.
"Oh, Jones, you dog," Micky playfully punched Davy in the shoulder.
"Night, Micky, I'll see you later," Davy rolled his eyes and headed for the door, "And, Micky, don't hang upside down on the couch for too long. You could pass out or something."
"Hey, don't judge how I like to spend my evenings," Micky hit back, "Have fun! Goodnight!"
Davy left the pad listening to Micky laughing, although what he was specifically laughing about was beyond Davy. Maybe some joke he had just thought of or maybe his evening comment had been supposed to be an attempt at humor. Either way, Davy felt relieved to be getting out of the house, alone, with the hopes of spending some time with real people. As soon as the thought entered his head though, he felt a pang of guilt. What did he mean by real people? Why did he feel so relieved to get out of the house, without Micky or Mike or Peter? An uncomfortable sensation filled Davy then so he turned his thoughts to the weather.
It was a bit colder, but not like the cold that Peter and Mike were probably dealing with in Connecticut. It was a California Cold that always reminded Davy of early spring back in Manchester. Not for the first time that week, Davy wondered if he should call his grandfather. Davy would, of course, call him Christmas Day to wish him a happy holiday and ask his granddad how he was doing, but perhaps maybe he should call him sooner. Davy reminded himself though, that it wouldn't do any good. The topic that Davy wanted to get off his chest could never be confessed to his grandfather.
A car honk startled Davy out of his thoughts. How long had he been standing outside on the driveway? He wasn't sure but it didn't matter now. Tommy's car had pulled up. Davy threw one look back towards the pad, wondering if Micky would truly be okay, but nonetheless clambered into the passenger's seat. Tommy looked just as he had when Davy had first met him. Shorter than average, with greasy brown hair that was slicked back with product, and beady eyes. He had a kind smile, something that always confused Davy, and he did have a good sense of style. Had he been just a slightly nicer person, Davy would have found him attractive even.
"Alrighty, Davy-boy, nice to see you!" Tommy said as he backed his car out of the driveway.
"Yeah, thanks for inviting me to this shindig," Davy replied.
"Come on, Davy, I hear you haven't been doing the circuits. 'Course I'm going to invite you to something, even if this isn't a happening party, you know, I mean, what's even been keeping you all kept up, man?" Tommy asked, seeming to be talking far too fast.
"Well, uh-," Davy was unsure of how to answer that question for a moment, "Family issues."
It was a neutral answer, one that wasn't a lie, but not specific either. Although it did surprise Davy that he had said family rather than some other thing, like personal issues.
"Yeah, yeah, yeah, I can dig that, I can understand that," Tommy nodded vigorously, "Well tonight, just forget all that hang up man, just relax and chat up some chicks. Maybe you'll get lucky."
Tommy winked at Davy then, his eyes off the road for a frightening amount of time. Davy almost thought he'd have to order Tommy to get his eyes back in their proper place. Tommy seemed wired and Davy was trying to recall the last time he'd seen Tommy. Had he always acted like this? Davy couldn't answer that question so he just stared straight ahead.
"Yeah," he absently said.
The drive seemed to last forever but take only a few moments, both at the same time. Tommy pulled up to the curb and put the car in park before turning to face Davy, his hand held out towards him. Davy glanced down at Tommy's palm, which cradled two white pills. They were tiny and Davy was experienced enough to know that it was drugs, most likely ecstasy, but Davy wasn't that good at identifying drugs. It wasn't like he was some sort of expert on the subject.
"What's that?" Davy's brows furrowed together slightly.
He felt stupid for asking that, but Tommy didn't seem to mind.
"Oh, man, Davy, my man, you're gonna love this. This here-," Tommy indicated the tiny white pills in his palm, "-is some Grade A ecstasy. Quality stuff, no halves or nothing. I got this guy, makes it himself, yeah, he's my best friend. My in-man."
Davy's suspicions has been correct and he felt weirdly proud that his guess had been proven right. But then it also occurred to him that Tommy probably had an addiction to this stuff, thanks to his 'in-man', whatever that meant.
"That's nice," Davy wasn't entirely sure what the correct response was, so he said the first thing he could think of.
"Nice, yeah, it's nice," Tommy agreed, head bobbing up and down, "You want some? It's good."
Davy pondered this offer for a moment. It wouldn't be his first tangle with MDMA but it wasn't a drug Davy particularly took often, seeing as he didn't really have the money to acquire a drug addiction. But it was a party and Davy hadn't had a real chance to do any sort of illegal recreation in regards to drugs for what seemed like years. Micky had been insistent that any sort drug be refrained from use for now, even pot, which had surprised even Peter. Peter had protested to this, but had caved eventually. At the thought of Peter, Davy's answer came to him.
"Sure, I'll take one. Thanks, Tommy," Davy replied, taking one of the small, white pills and dry swallowing it.
"Yeah, 'course, anything for you Davy, my pal. You're gonna love it, it's great, quality stuff," Tommy nodded, before swallowing the remaining pill, "Make this party even greater than what it already is, you know. It's just great!"
Davy felt pity for Tommy. He wasn't entirely sure why, since Tommy wasn't exactly a saint. They got out of the car then and headed up to the house. Inside, it was quite strange. It struck Davy that he hadn't been to this sort of party in a while. There were couples dancing in the living room and there was a bar area. It wasn't even a particularly holiday-esque party, despite the erect Christmas tree squashed up in the corner of the living room. As soon as they entered the living room, Tommy disappeared. Did Davy even have a ride home? Tommy hadn't exactly told Davy he'd give him a ride home, nor did Davy really know how to get home in the first place. With a thread of panic sliding all through his body, Davy headed for the bar.
He ordered some fancy drink that just tasted like alcohol and sat on a chair that was positioned just a little bit away from the floor space of the living room that was being used for dancing. There were a few other chairs lined up beside the chair Davy occupied. He nursed his drink for what seemed like ages until a pair of two young women sat down next to him. The one who sat to his immediate left was dressed in a low cut red dress that abruptly ended at her knees. Her hair, a thick brown, was pulled back into a hastily styled bun and her eyes were like liquid pools of chocolate. She was quite beautiful and Davy was struck with the urge to ask her to dance. But he didn't. The young woman next to the other seemed quite tall. Her hair was a sandy blonde that fell loosely about her shoulders. She was wearing a blue dress that touched the floor and had sequins on it. It was dazzlingly bright and it looked almost like shiny metal. Davy became very aware of the music that was playing and his own breath.
"Hi," the red dress wearing woman said, leaning in close to Davy, "You're really pretty."
Her breath smelt heavily of alcohol.
"Thank you," Davy replied.
"I'm Cindy, that's Sarah," the red dress wearing woman introduced herself, before indicating the woman sitting next to her, "She's my best friend."
Sarah gave Davy a half-hearted wave. Davy felt amazing. His sudden realization made him wave enthusiastically back at Sarah.
"I'm Davy," Davy informed Cindy and Sarah, "And I love how shiny your dresses look."
They seemed to sparkle and Davy felt tingly.
"You're so sweet," Cindy cooed, hand suddenly grabbing Davy's.
It felt like a sudden pressure and Davy looked down at the entwined hands, smiling.
"Well, what can I say, you're just so beautiful, I can't help it," Davy told Cindy.
Cindy giggled and began talking about something. Davy followed along with the conversation Cindy seemed to have with herself for some time, only adding in his own two cents of charm when he could actually understand what was going on. Eventually though, her friend Sarah cut Cindy off.
"Cindy, we should get home, it's so late," Sarah said, in an almost pleading fashion, "We've been here for five hours."
Cindy rolled her eyes, body still pressed to Davy's. When did she get so close to him?
"Come one, Sarah, I just want to stay here with Davy," she said and then turned her head slightly to whisper, "He's got an accent."
The whisper though was more like a shout.
"We should go home," Sarah insisted.
"I could go home with you, love," Davy suggested then, without really thinking about it.
It occurred to him then that he seemed to be drifting away from himself. The ghost of himself was detaching itself from his body, or at least that's what it felt like. Cindy seemed pleased by this offer and suddenly kissed Davy. Davy didn't feel it, he just saw it happen.
"Let's go then, Sarah," Cindy announced, leaping to her feet and pulling Davy up with her.
It was a weird experience to feel outside of his body. It was as if were watching himself walk back to Cindy and Sarah's car despite not even really seeing himself. He and Cindy clambered into the back of the car while Sarah took the driver's seat. As soon as the car lurched into motion, Cindy pressed herself close to Davy, kissing his mouth. As soon as she began this, Davy regretted his actions. But it wasn't entirely unpleasant, especially because it felt as if it were happening to some other person. Some other guy named Davy. But then Cindy began to suck on his neck, kissing it at times. Her hands were roaming his chest and she kept fumbling at his pants. Davy wanted to tell her to stop but he felt as if he couldn't move his mouth. His ghost could not control his body, the real and physical him, and he couldn't seem to get back into his body. He wanted Cindy to stop. She undid his pants, her mouth continuing a line of haphazard kisses downwards, despite the fact that Davy still had his shirt on. Davy needed Cindy to stop now.
But the memory of him came to Davy without warning, seeming to transport Davy back to a night that he had done his very best to forget entirely. It had been at the baths, one of the many in L.A., and why Davy had been there in the first place, he couldn't remember, it wasn't even all that important. He used to visit them a lot, when Davy found himself in the mood. The guy had been in the same position that Cindy was in now, kissing Davy lower and lower, and it had felt good then but now it filled Davy with a wave of terror and a stab of guilt. He had had blonde hair, a kind face, charm to match even Davy's own. Cindy found where she seemed to want her mouth. Davy wanted to tell her to stop. He needed her to stop now, this wasn't what he wanted, but she wouldn't stop. He couldn't tell her. She went about her business, without a clue to Davy's panic.
In the bath, the guy had done the same. He had stopped and looked up at Davy before anything really happened. He had had kind eyes. Then he had said to Davy, "I've got it, you know. Just thought you should know. I hope that isn't a problem." He nearly hadn't waited for Davy to respond. But Davy had. He had shoved the blonde away from him, snapping that of course it mattered. Davy didn't want to catch it. And then suddenly Davy came slamming back into himself. He felt wrong and disgusting and wretched. Cindy was still down there, making sounds that signaled to Davy she was having a good time. But she was drunk and Davy felt the need to rip his skin right off of himself.
"Stop, god, please, stop," Davy finally found his voice, but it wasn't loud enough for Cindy to hear.
She didn't stop just like he had almost not stopped.
"God, it fucking matters!" he suddenly shouted, memories confusing themselves in his head for a moment.
He saw the blonde where Cindy was for a split second and Davy shoved him backwards. He shoved Cindy off of him. She seemed bewildered.
"What's wrong?" she asked, a smile playing behind her eyes.
She was too drunk. Davy wanted to cry. He'd thought about that night, that damned fucking night, and now he needed to cry.
"D-don't touch me," Davy stammered, quickly fixing himself and doing his pants back up.
"What are you, a faggot?" Cindy's criticism cut Davy deep and he felt, for a moment, as if he'd been stabbed.
Davy needed to go home, to his own home, and so he opened the door, barreling out of the car. Lucky for him, Sarah had just parked in a driveway. Their driveway. Not his driveway. Davy wanted to cry. Somewhere in the back of his head, a rational voice was telling him to calm down. He was coming down from a high. Calm down. But he'd thought about that night, the night that he hadn't told anyone.
"What the hell, guy?" Cindy was following him out of the car.
Sarah seemed to be saying something too, but Davy just stared at Cindy, trying to think of a way to make her understand that he needed to go home, to his house, right now. Before he could speak though, Cindy doubled over and vomited on the ground. Davy stared, forgetting what was expected of people in that sort of situation. Sarah appeared at Cindy's side.
"Are you okay?" she asked her.
"Just tired," Cindy replied with a half-smile, before staggering forward.
Sarah grabbed her, preventing Cindy from a face plant on the pavement below. She glared at Davy, then her face softened.
"Are you…. Okay?" she seemed hesitant to ask.
"I'm sorry," it was the only thing Davy could think of to say.
Sarah seemed to approve of this answer and then took one of Cindy's arms.
"Can you help me get her inside?" Sarah asked.
Davy nodded, grabbing Cindy's other arm. He helped Sarah carry Cindy into the house, down a hallway, and into what Davy assumed was Cindy's room. Together, they dumped Cindy into the bed and Sarah covered her up. Then Davy followed Sarah out of the room. As they emerged from the hallway and into the living room, Davy found that his feet had given out on him. He fell flat on his ass. At that point, he couldn't take anything any more, and so the tears began to stream down his face. He knew he needed to get out of a stranger's house. He couldn't sit here and cry like this. But his legs wouldn't lift him up.
"Did you take something, Davy?" he was startled by Sarah.
She was crouched in front of him, looking at him with genuine concern.
"Ecstasy," Davy replied.
"Okay," Sarah nodded her head, "I'm going to help you onto our couch and then I'm going to get you some water."
Davy could only nod in response. He felt Sarah lift him up and he struggled to get his feet to cooperate with him. He felt ridiculous and horrible. He wanted to go home. Sarah sat him down on a couch just like she had said she would before disappearing from Davy's view. She shortly returned with a glass of water. Handing it to him, she sat down next to him.
"Drink it all, you're dehydrated," she instructed.
Davy did as he was told and drank the whole glass. It felt refreshing but his skin was still crawling and he still wanted to rip it all off. When he was finished, Sarah took the glass away. Then she came back, sitting down next to him again.
"Do you want anything else?" she asked him.
Davy shook his head. He wanted to go home but the more he thought about it the more he was unsure whether or not he could get home from here. He didn't know where he was.
"Do you want a ride home?" Sarah asked him.
"Do you know how to get to 334 North Beechwood?" Davy replied.
"No, I'm sorry," Sarah shook her head.
Although it wasn't that big of a deal, Davy started to cry again. He felt Sarah place a hand on his back.
"You can use the phone. Call someone," Sarah suggested to him.
"I can't go home like this, not to him," Davy sobbed.
"To who?" Sarah probed.
"Peter. My f-friend Peter. He has AIDS and it shouldn't have been him who got it first," Davy couldn't hold anything back.
He hated himself and he hated Peter and he hated AIDS.
"Oh…," Sarah sounded as if she were suddenly muffled, "Are… you a homosexual?"
"I do both," Davy said it as if it explained everything and, in some sense, it did.
"Men and women?" Sarah asked.
Davy nodded, not having the strength to say anything.
"I see," she said then disappeared from Davy's side.
She returned with a blanket, which she draped across Davy's shoulders. She also placed a box of tissues in Davy's lap.
"Look, Davy, I don't know you. And I know you don't know me. But I'm a therapist. That's my job. And I can see that you're in some sort of distress. So I'm going to make you a deal. Is that okay?" Sarah said to him.
"Yeah," Davy's voice sounded pathetic to him.
"Alright. I'll let you stay the night but you gotta tell me what's bugging you. Even if it's really personal. I won't judge or tell anyone. I'll even forget what you tell me, if that's what you want. But that's the deal," Sarah sounded so sure of herself.
But Davy was confused.
"Why are you being so nice to me?" he wondered.
"Because you freaked out in the car and then fell down crying on my living room floor. You're in some sort of crisis, you're coming down from ecstasy, I'm a little worried. Even if you're a stranger, you seem like a nice guy," Sarah explained.
Davy nodded, as if all this made sense, and to him, it did. Sarah seemed like an angel sent by God himself.
"Okay," Davy agreed.
"Good. You start talking whenever you're ready. I'll only listen, I won't talk," Sarah seemed to promise.
"Okay," Davy repeated.
He took a moment to listen to the silence of this strange house. It was different than the silence of the pad.
"My friend, Peter, he's just gay. He doesn't like girls. But that's it, difference wise. We like to go around, I guess, you understand?" Davy felt disgusting but mostly he felt odd, attempting to bare his soul to a stranger.
But his thoughts were still all confused, his mind and body still clinging to the little white pill that Tommy had given to him what felt like ages ago. If he thought hard enough, he could pretend that Sarah was anyone. In fact, she was beginning to remind him a lot of his mother. In response to Davy's question, Sarah simply nodded, indicating to him that she understood.
"We weren't… loose, just liked to have fun. But… but he's the one who got it. He got AIDS and not me," Davy fought not to cry again and he took one of the tissues out of the box.
He blew his nose.
"But you don't just sleep with men. You sleep with women, too. Why are you so upset?" Sarah wondered.
She didn't sound upset or disgusted or confused. She sounded concerned. It had a quality of professionalism to it as well. Davy wondered if he should stop now, should just suck it up and call home. Get a ride home. Back to the pad. But Sarah knew almost all of the story now. He might as well finish it up.
"I should have been the one to get it, at least first," Davy sighed, the tears brimming over, "I-I was with this guy. And he… he, uh, we were getting really friendly, pretty quickly. A-and before we did anything, he, uh, he told me he had it. This guy didn't… didn't really wait for me to tell him no before he started to try to do things. To me. But I pushed him away."
Davy's breath hitched and he couldn't stop himself from sobbing.
"He said it didn't matter he had it. But I told him it did and I left. And it should be me with AIDS, not Peter. He's too sweet and nice and all I am is a slut, who can't even stick to one side. I'm a fraud and I should have gotten it, not him, he didn't even get a chance to say no- I, fuck-," Davy broke off because he couldn't speak through the tears any longer.
Sarah placed a hand onto Davy's back, silently sitting there while Davy cried. She let him calm down a little before she spoke.
"Have you told your friend about your experience?" Sarah asked.
Her voice held a gentleness to it that Davy found extremely calming. He couldn't find the words to answer her question so he just shook his head.
"I think you should tell your friend what you told me," Sarah stated, then she stood up.
It almost startled Davy.
"Can I get you anything else before I go to bed?" she asked.
"No, thank you," Davy replied.
"Alright, then you just lay down and go to sleep. The lights will be off in a minute," Sarah instructed him.
Davy nodded and realized how tired he was. Every part of him ached. As Sarah disappeared, Davy curled up into a ball on the couch. The lights flicked off and he heard footsteps receding down the hallway. His skin slowly stopped crawling and he slipped into unconsciousness.
When Davy opened his eyes, natural light was streaming into the living room. He sat up and immediately regretted it. There was a bees hive in his head, with all the bees stinging his brain.
"Hung over?" Sarah appeared from nowhere.
Everything from last night was slowly coming back to him and Davy felt a flurry of embarrassment. He must have gone red by the way Sarah quickly said, "Look, anything you said last night. It's forgotten."
"I'm so sorry about last night," Davy told her, "Is Cindy alright?"
Sarah seemed touched that Davy remembered Cindy's name.
"Cindy's fine. She's not up yet, and probably won't be till noon. And she'll be majorly hungover. Nothing a good meal won't fix," Sarah laughed.
She then placed a glass of water in Davy's right hand and a Tylenol in his other.
"Call your friend. The phone's in the kitchen," Sarah told him, "I have to head into work, but I hope you get home safely."
"Thank you very much," Davy repeated.
Sarah nodded, told Davy the address of the house, and then disappeared out the front door. How could she trust him in her house, alone? Or, practically alone. Davy took the Tylenol and drank his water. He stood up, folded the blanket he had slept with last night, straightened up the couch, and then went into the kitchen. The phone was hanging on the wall and Davy picked it up, dialing the pad's number. Micky picked up the phone.
"Hello?" his voice was so soothing, Davy almost thought he'd cry.
"Micky, can you come pick me up?" Davy asked.
"You get lucky?" Davy could almost picture Micky's eyebrows wiggling.
"Not exactly," Davy admitted, "But I need a ride home."
Micky agreed to come pick Davy up in the car so Davy gave Micky the address. While Davy was waiting for Micky to arrive, he fished in his pants for his wallet and placed all the money he had in there on the kitchen table. It only amounted to thirty-two dollars and forty-five cents. But it was the only thing Davy could think to do. He didn't know Sarah or Cindy's last name. And he frankly never wanted to talk to either one of them again. He felt extremely grateful to Sarah for her help last night but with that gratitude came an overwhelming sense of embarrassment. Yet, despite all the mixed emotions and the headache, Davy had made a solemn promise to himself. When Peter came home today, Davy was going to have a talk with him. About everything.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: HAPPY HALLOWEEN to all who read this! :) Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed this chapter and have a happy halloween. Once again, this story is as factually accurate as a high school student can get, so I implore anyone out there who is interested in learning what the 1980s AIDS crisis was really like, check out Randy Shilts's And the Band Played On. You can look forward to another chapter up sometime next week, hopefully. Feel free to leave a like and a review! All are welcome! Have a wonderful day & happy halloween!