Chapter 27

We've been through some things together
With trunks of memories still to come

"Cookie?" Darren waved a biscuit in front of Robin's face.

With her lips pressed together she shook her head. "Uh-uh."

Furrowing his brow, her friend took a quick appraisal of her and sighed quietly. "Robin, it's going to be fine."

Tightening the grip around her coffee mug she shot him a look of disbelief. "Says you" she countered, "who I don't believe is giving a speech today."

"No" he replied carefully, "but you're among friends here and everyone is going to be supportive."

Turning around, she leaned against the table and stared at the fast filling room. It was less than five days until the Nurses Ball and she was finally ready to take her speech for a test drive but as the moment drew closer her nerves started to get the better of her. Closing her eyes, she took several deep breaths but they did little to calm the pitching and rolling in her stomach.

"Robin" Darren called to her again, "it's going to be fine."

"What if they hate it?" she asked quietly, her eyes still firmly fixed on the chairs in front of her.

"They aren't going to hate it-"

She interrupted him. "Darren - they might. What if I get up there and deliver the speech to them and I sound like a fraud? What if in an effort to be authentic, I fall short of the mark?"

Groaning in frustration, he took hold of her elbow and led her to the far corner of the room. "Robin, do you have HIV?"

"D'uh" she replied with a roll of her eyes.

"Then no matter what you say it will be authentic. How can you possibly sound like a fraud when are speaking about what you live?"

Jamming her hands in her pockets and dropping her gaze, she blew out her cheeks. "I know" she acknowleged, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Then what's going on?" He nudged her shoulder with his own.

"I'm worried about Patrick."

"In what sense? I thought you said things were going well?"

"They are but..." She swallowed thickly as her voice trailed off. "I'm worried that my speech might be too real and might scare him - or anyone who knows me."

Darren just stared at her, silently encouraging her to continue. Through his own experience he had learned that support happened in formal and informal settings and some times the best intervention was none at all.

"He is less than two months from his final HIV test and I know, I know" she added emphatically, "that he is going to test negative. But I've worked really hard over the last few months to demonstrate - or at least try to demonstrate - that it's okay, that a full life is possible and what if my speech fills him with doubt? What if in an effort to be real, I make him - or anyone - feel like it's not possible to live a full life. And then what if he tests positive?"

Reaching out he placed a comforting arm on her shoulder. "Robin" he said gently, "You are a living example - this room is a living example - that a full life is indeed possible. I may not know you as well as some of your friends and family but from what I have seen of you in this room, I know that you could never make anyone believe otherwise. Is it possible," he ventured carefully, "that while you are worried about Patrick's reaction, that is not the reaction you are worried about?"

Folding her arms across her chest, she chewed thoughtfully on her bottom lip. As a researcher she had built her expertise on assuming that things were not as they seemed to be and that while the answers to any given problem may be obvious, the path to get there was not. Darren's question had the same effect on her and she realized in an instant that he was right. Her worries about Patrick's reaction were not in relation to whether he tested positive or not and how her speech could affect his mindset. It was an inherently more selfish worry. She was concerned - terrified really - that she would tell the truth about being HIV positive, as Patrick had encouraged her to do, and in that moment he would realize he wanted no part of that life.

That he would want no part of her.

'I love you' was a statement, not a guarantee. It was possible by lifting the veil that it would simply become too much for him. He would hardly be the first person who could not deal with her reality. Risk taking had ceased to be a part of her makeup around the time that she discovered she had been infected. In fact, Patrick was the first real risk she had taken in almost a decade.

"What if -" she started suddenly, "what if after hearing my speech it's too much for him?"

"I can't speak for Patrick" he started, "but I know that my girlfriend is far more aware of what being with an HIV positive person means than I give her credit for. Robin, she notices everything - what a change in meds does to me, how fitfully I sleep at the onset of any cold because I'm worried that it's not just a cold, how my stomach is always unsettled after the first dosage in the morning - she sees it all but we don't really talk about it." He gave a small shrug, "I don't honestly believe there is anything you have in that speech" he nodded to the rolled up pages peeking out from her purse, "that Patrick isn't already acutely aware of.

"Do you think I'm being ridiculous?" she asked quietly.

"Hardly" he reassured her. "God Robin, somedays just the knowing that I'm HIV positive is overwhelming. Having to factor in another person's feelings can knock me on my ass."

She smirked, understanding exactly how he felt. Reaching into her purse she pulled out the dog eared pages and twirled them over in her hands.

Darren noticed the room falling silent and the group leader looking over in their direction. "So what do you say Doc? You ready to take that baby for a spin?"

Inhaling sharply, she gave a slight nod of her head. "Here goes nothing" she said under her breath as she headed to the front of the room.

The older woman watched bemusedly as he slowly circled round and round, pausing every few moments and then with a small shake of his head moving on. He had been at it for nearly half an hour and she decided it was time to put him out of both of their miseries.

"Sir, may I be of some assistance?" she enquired kindly.

Startled by the sound of her lilting Irish accent, Patrick lifted his head and looked at her in surprise. "Oh, I...uh...well..." he stammered.

Coming from around the display case, she walked towards him. "Who are you looking to buy jewelry for?"

He smiled involuntarily. "My girlfriend" he replied softly.

"And what kind of piece are you interested in?"

With a faint blush in his cheeks, he shook his head. "I have no idea" he admitted. "I've...I've never bought jewelry for a woman who wasn't my mother."

The sales attendant bit back a smile. "I see. Is this to commemorate a special occasion? Are you looking for a ring? A bracelet?"

"I just...you know, there should be some kind of handbook for this type of thing. Wait -maybe there is a handbook and no one told me?" he rambled.

"I can assure you sir there is no handbook" she replied with a small laugh, "but perhaps I can guide you. Tell me about your girlfriend and if this is a momento for something special and I'll see if I can't direct you."

Patrick sighed in relief. Repairing damage to the human brain was not nearly as daunting as trying to navigate the milestones of a relationship; he was grateful for the assist.

"Her name is Robin and she...she is quite simply the most amazing person I have ever known. She is brave and strong - and smart, ridiculously smart. When she laughs, I automatically start laughing even if I don't know what she's laughing at. She's tiny but her heart is bigger than anyone else's. She would give someone the shirt off her back if she thought they needed it. And she's a fighter - a heavyweight champion" he carried on, oblivious to the look of amusement on the woman's face. "If she's in your corner, she's there for good. And I love her" he stated simply. "I love her more than anything."

"She sounds like an amazing young woman."

"Amazing doesn't even being to cover it" he said, almost unintentionally.

It had been a full week since he had started the steroid treatment for his meningioma and he was feeling better than he had in weeks. There were no more tremors, no more headaches and most importantly not a single sign of a seizure. Having ignored his instincts and convinced himself the steroids were working, he was focusing all his attention on the Nurses Ball and Robin. It was going to be a watershed moment for her and he wanted her to feel as loved and supported as she had made him feel.

"Are you interested in a ring?"

On instinct, he shook his head. "Uh, no. We're not there yet."

"Okay. Why don't you follow me over here?" she asked, leading him to another display case. "I think there are some pieces that may fit your requirements."

"Money isn't an object" he blurted out. "I...I want it to be nice."

With a small smile playing at her lips, the sales clerk opened up the case and withdrew a tray of necklaces. "I bought these pieces on my last trip home to Ireland" she told him, laying the tray before him. "The necklaces and pendants are all made of platinum." Picking up one, she displayed it to him. "This is an example of celtic knotwork and is the symbol for eternity. You'll notice the way the knots are completely entangled making it impossible to see where it begins and ends."

Patrick nodded. He appreciated the symbolism but it didn't speak to him the way he was hoping it would. He truly believed that he and Robin were a partnership without equal but one of aspects of their relationship that he appreciated most was their ability to retain their own identities. It was important to him that while they complimented each other, they also remained true to the people they were before they were together. The Robin he fell in love with was fiery and independant - not for a moment would he want her to change that simply because she was with him.

"I have others" she told him as she laid the necklace back down, sensing his hesitation. "There is this one - it is the celtic symbol for wisdom."

Relieving her of the necklace, he examined it carefully. Robin was wise, of that there was no doubt; it was a wisdom born of experience, loss and tragedy. It had been her wisdom that had seen him through some of his darkest moments, that had helped him to find the perspective that he needed when his father was fighting for his life or when he had been exposed to HIV. But it was just a small part of who she was, it certainly didn't seem to encompass who she was - or who she was to him.

He shook his head. "It's beautiful but-"

"But not quite what you need," she finished for him. "How about this one?" she asked picking up a third piece.

Tilting his head to the side, he studied it. "That looks really familiar - what is it?"

"It's the claddagh. It's most often used in rings - in Ireland it is often the wedding ring - but the symbol can also be found in bracelets and necklaces."

"What does it mean?" he asked, his eyes glued to the necklace.

Something about it just seemed to shine brighter than the others. He wanted this to be the first of many pieces that he would give her. The first of many times they commemorated great moments in each other's lives, happy moments and just because moments.

"The heart is for love, the hands holding the heart are for friendship and the crown here" she pointed to the crown nestled on the top of the heart, "is for loyalty."

His mouth curved upwards in a smile. It was Robin. It was who Robin was to him and who he hoped to be to her.

"I'll take it."