Chapter 16

Nothing you confess could make me love you less

She couldn't help but have the poem run through her head as she stood in front of the door - it had been her constant companion since she had awoken that morning.

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,

And sorry I could not travel both

And be one traveler, long I stood

And looked down one as far as I could

To where it bent in the undergrowth

Her hand was perched over the doorknob but she could not bring herself to open the door. It had taken weeks of talks with Laniey and living with the idea inside her head but she had finally decided to attend a support group - just for one meeting. Her conversation with Patrick about giving a truthful speech about being HIV+ had given the support group idea new life. She was struck by the notion that perhaps she didn't know what the truth about living with HIV was - was her experience unique or were there others living with the same fears and worries as she was? If she was going to give a truthful speech then perhaps she needed to make sure what she said was representative of the truth. This was the only way she knew how to do that.

Nervous energy coursed through her veins. Used to being judged, she found it difficult to conceive of being in a place where there were no judgements. Despite Lainey's assurances that she would only find support in the room, she remained skeptical. Worried that she would not know what to say or what to do, she thought about giving into the quiet panic inside her and bolting. Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath, seized the doorknob and twisted it open.

Two roads diverged in a wood, and I--

I took the one less traveled by

And that has made all the difference.

There were nearly two dozen people milling about the hospital's multi-purpose room. Pausing in the doorway she wracked her brain wondering if she had ever been in a place with so many...people like her before.

A young man approahced her. "First time?"

Robin gave a small smile. "That obvious?"

"Well you do have your purse strap in a Vulcan death grip, it's usually a dead give away."

Laughing lightly in spite of herself, Robin looked up at his kind face and smiled, letting go of her purse strap.

"I'm Darren" he said, extending her hand. "HIV+ for 18 years"

"Robin" she offered as her eyes widened in surprise. "18 years?"

He nodded. "I needed a blood transfusion when I was eight - the screening wasn't as good then. Are you newly diagnosed?"

She gave a small shake of her head. "11 years" she said quietly.

Darren led her from the doorway to the table at the back of the room, brimming with coffee and cookies. "I've been coming for two years" he said by way of explanation as he scanned the plate for the cookie with the most chocolate chips. "I never thought I would be in a place like this - I grew up being HIV+ and just kind of rolled with it."

"May I - may I ask what brought you here?"

Finding the cookie he wanted, he freed it from the plate and took a small bite. "Sure - so long as you tell your reasons."

"Deal." Reaching for a paper cup, Robin filled it with coffee.

"I don't know what triggered it but out of nowhere I started to get moody and restentful - of the pills, the tests - of the dentist who refused to clean my teeth - and I started taking it out on people around me. My girlfriend, Lucy, gave me an ultimatum, she told me to talk to someone or she was gone."

A wry smile formed on Robin's lips. "Sounds familiar. I...I'm a doctor and I was treating a patient who was end stage and her death opened up wounds that I thought were long closed. I started to slide into the abyss but I'm lucky, I have a boyfriend and friends who won't let go and they've pushed and cajoled and encouraged me to come here." Glancing around the room, she inhaled quietly. "I'm still not sure that this..."

"Is for you?" he finished.

"Something like that." Robin brought the coffee to her lips and sipped it, letting the hot liquid trickle down her throat.

"I get that but the nice thing about here? You're not alone. You don't have to talk if you don't want to, you can cry, you can yell - you can talk about how unfucking fair being HIV+ is - everyone in this room understands."

Feeling the tension roll away from her, Robin found herself nodding. "I think...I think I might be ready to not be alone with this anymore."

"Good - let's grab some seats. I'll introduce you to the bad asses - they have commentary on everything and are good for a laugh."

Seated amidst a group of smart, articulate and outrageously funny men and women, Robin found her own experiences reflected in so many others. She was amazed at those who had been subjected to levels of hatred and ignorance that she had not experienced and she was moved by the absolute courage that some of them displayed in the face of overwhelming adversity.

One man, Gregory, told a story of eating nothing but ramen noodles for two weeks because he had been laid off from his job and the absence of health insurance meant that he could buy his medication or food but not both. He joked about the web site he wanted to run featuring 101 ways to cook ramen noodles before adding seriously that at least his t-cells and viral load were still in check and that mattered more than fine dining.

As the meeting broke up, Robin looked at her watch, surprised that the 90 minutes had flown by so effortlessly. Not ready to speak about her life and unsure when or if that day would come, she still found that it was as others told her - there is strength in knowing that others are facing the same thing. She thanked Darren for being her guide and replied with a smile when he told her to drop in again.

Exiting the room, she stopped short as she saw Patrick's lanky frame leaning against the wall. A lazy smile appeared on his face and he held out a Starbucks cup. "A peppermint hot chocolate with extra whipped cream."

"And sprinkles?"

"Lots of sprinkles."

Robin took the proferred cup and then standing on her tip toes, kissed him softly. "I'm glad you're here."

"I'm glad you went" he said, against her mouth. "I'm proud of you."

"Let's get out of here" she said, smiling. She felt renewed and while she was aware that one meeting was hardly a cureall, it was, at least, a new beginning.

"I walked over - do you want to walk back along the docks?" Robin took hold of his hand and led him down the hall to the front doors.

Having strolled along the docks, they settled on a bench over looking the water. Robin had slung her legs over Patrick's lap and he was absently running his hands long her thighs while he stared at the sun slowly sinking into the horizon. Touching Robin - being next to her - had the most calming effect on him. Admitting he needed another person was difficult and he struggled to tell her how much he needed her but he hoped on some level she knew.

"So" he began, pulling his eyes from the setting sun and settling them on her, "how do you feel?"

"I feel..." she exhaled quietly and chewed on her bottom lip, "I feel okay."

"Just okay?" he queried, quirking his eyebrows upwards.

"Not just okay - but okay - like I'm going to be alright. God Patrick - there were so many of them who had been positive longer than I have and they are for the most part healthy and strong - but they still struggle to accept the virus as part of their lives. I - I always tell people that I've come to terms with it, because I think that's what they want to hear. But meeting these people and having them tell me that nearly 20 years on they still can't accept it -" she sighed, "I just feel less...I don't know..."

"Alone" he finished softly for her.

"Yeah" she agreed.

"For the record Robin - I don't ever want you to tell me you're okay with something - I don't care what it is - if you're not."

Leaning in, she cupped his face and nipped at his lips. "You're amazing."

"'Bout time you noticed" he replied with a grin.

Robin laughed, rolling her eyes. Rubbing her hands together to ward off the cool breeze, she turned her attention back to her boyfriend. "Can I ask you something?"

"Sure."

"Is...is that what going to Al-Anon does for you?" Patrick sighed quietly and rubbed his hands over his face. Assuming she had touched a raw nerve, she scrambled to change the subject. "You don't have to tell me" she said quickly. "What do you want for dinner tonight?"

Giving her a quizzical look, he shook his head. "I don't mind that you've asked Robin, it's just that no one has ever asked me about it before and so I was just surprised."

"No one?"

He shrugged. "Being a child of an addict is a very isolating experience. You tend to keep people at a distance so that they never discover the ugly truth about your family. My best friend in New York, Eric, knows about my dad and knows that I go to group but we don't talk about it and I've never...I've never really told anyone else. I mean, part of the disease leads you to be a master of deception."

"What do you mean?" she prodded carefully.

He kept his gaze on the water, hoping the light was dim enough that she would not see the tears that formed. "I still lived with my dad for two years after my mom died and he drank heavily. He was embarassing - humiliating. He would show up at my baseball games drunk - he would get belligerent with the umpires and my coach and I would be so...I wanted the ground to swallow me whole. So it got to the point where I would hide information from my dad - I would lie about game times, parent/teacher interviews, even school graduation. And I would lie to my friends - there would always be a reason why they couldn't come over. I would meet them at the pizza place or the movie theatre - anything to avoid them seeing my dad."

Robin was quiet for several minutes. In the last two minutes Patrick had revealed more of himself than he had in almost a year and she wanted to ensure she respected his trust in her. "You must have felt awfully alone"

"I was alone" he said hoarsely. "I had no one really. And I thought I was okay with it - I thought the solution was to get out and get to college. Once at college I was able to create whatever story I wanted. I didn't have to protect my dad from people making fun of him or sneering at him and I didn't have to protect my friends from my dad being drunk. College was a life raft."

"So what - when did you start going to Al-Anon?"

"As an intern" he admitted. Sucking in a sharp breath, he was silent for a moment as he tried to regain his bearings. "It all became too much and after a fight with my dad, I yelled at a nurse, my resident and several patients. My resident gave me a flyer for a support group and told me I couldn't come back to work until I went to one." Turning back to face her, he smiled wryly. "And like you I discovered that there were others living what I was living. There is strength in numbers and there were - there are some days - that I need that, just to function."

Curling her fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck, she let go of a small breath. "Do you...do you still feel like you're isolated?"

Patrick traced his thumb along her bottom lip. "Sometimes" he admitted. "I love my dad Robin but...when I needed him the most he chose booze over me. I became his second choice and there are days that realization can knock me breathless."

Linking her fingers through his, Robin brought his hand to her mouth and pressed her lips against it. "You will never be second choice with me."