Undeniably In Denial

“So what’s this photo shoot for?” Jared asked as we stepped out of the car.

“Actually, I have no idea. All I know is that you and I won’t be in any of the same shots. They just paired up all the models randomly and you and I both have other people to work with. You don’t mind that, do you?”

“No, it’s okay. I'm not going to be able to do every shoot with you; I might as well get used to it somehow,” he shrugged, lacing his fingers in mine while we walked towards all the other people and camera stuff that indicated where the shoot was actually going to be held.

“Ah! Camron!” a voice yelled out excitedly in a very French accent. “And Jared! Just in time! Quincy! Come, come.” It wasn’t the photographer, because I saw her still taking some other pictures and it wasn’t the makeup artist, because that’s who this lady just called for. She was very tall, had very dark hair, and just looked overall very, very French. That’s just about the only way I can think to describe her. “Quincy, meet Jared and Camron. Jared is with Levi and Camron is, well, he’s in the protest group. Get these two ready to go out there. Jared and Levi are next!”

“Come this way boys,” Quincy told us, motioning for us to follow him to a little tent area that all the makeup and hair stuff was set up. Quincy looked to be about twenty four, wasn’t all that tall, had brownish hair, and wore eyeliner. He wasn’t that bad looking, but he wasn’t that great either. Even if I was interested, which I wasn’t, it’s not as if it would go anywhere; I wasn’t catching even one tiny blip of homosexuality out of him, so I think it was safe to bet that he’s completely straight. “She’s a real character, isn’t she?” Quincy laughed, sitting Jared down in a director-style chair.

“Who is she?” he asked, taking off his oversized sunglasses.

“That’s Adelaide Smith; the shoot organizer slash planner slash Nazi slash whatever else. She’s the one who came up with the idea and funding and all that for this particular photo shoot,”

“Well what was her idea?” I asked, sitting myself down in another of those chairs, watching Quincy run some mouse through Jared’s hair, trying to tame it down a little. I had a feeling that his shoot was going to be a more serious one. Also, it seemed as if Quincy was not only the makeup artist, but also the hair dresser.

“What do you mean?”

“What‘s this shoot for? She said something about a protest group?”

“Oh, well it’s to promote the legalization of gay marriage across the European countries that haven’t legalized it yet,” he laughed. “And the protest group is this big group of people acting out a protest for legalization. All the signs being held up are going to be in different languages, so the ads can be understood everywhere they’re posted. Oh, hey, Jared, would you be able to take out your lip rings? I've got to airbrush your face, and the guy you’re doing the shoot with has a problem with facial piercings for some reason.”

“Yea, sure,” he nodded, unscrewing the balls and taking out the cold silver metal of his lips. Right about then, Adelaide, and all her French-attitude, walked up to us with a clipboard in her hands.

“How’s it coming, Quincy? He almost done?”

“Be patient, Adelaide. Do you want this done fast or do you want this done right?”

“I’d rather both,”

“Well you’re not going to get both, so you’re going to have to deal with whatever I give you,”

“Adelaide?” a boy about nineteen with brown slicked back hair and an Australian accent asked, walking towards us.

“Levi! Yes, yes, there you are. What do you need?”

“The photographer says she’s going to do Susan and Beth before me and Jared,”

“Oh! Thank heavens! Never mind, Quincy, take as long as you need.” Levi walked off again and Adelaide turned around, without even a simple ‘bye’ or anything, and started walking. I jumped up and ran after her, stopping her, earning a glare. “Yes? What do you need?” she asked, completely without any emotion.

“Well, I don’t know if you know this or not, but Jared and I are engaged,”

“No, him and Levi are,” she said, almost monotone. I had no idea what she was talking about, but I just assumed it had to do with their shoot.

“I mean in real life. We’ve been engaged since Monday,” I explained, showing her the ring on my left hand that Jared presented to me last night. He bought mine back in London, and I bought mine here in France, but oddly enough, they both look very, very similar.

“Oh! Oh! That’s perfect! Absolutely perfect!” she yelled, nearly throwing her clipboard up in the air with excitement. “Quincy! Change of plans! Jared and Levi are no longer in the same shoot! It’s now Jared and Camron! Match them up or whatever it is you need to do. I need to find Levi. Levi! LEVI! Oh, there you are. Levi, you are leading the protest group. Mess up your hair or something.”

“No! Don’t do anything to it!” Quincy warned the boy. “Levi! You touch it and…oh! You touched it. Come back in fifteen minutes and we’ll see what we can do to that big mess you call your hair!”



“Alright, so I want you two to sit down on that bench and face each other. Look at each other like you’ve never seen anything more beautiful. Like you’re mesmerized by the other’s face. Like you can’t live without him,” the photographer said, pointing excitedly form one of us to the other, but speaking in – yet again – a very unenthused voice. I swear all French women are like that; stuck up. Anyways, somehow, both Jared and I had gotten into a pair of black suits that fit us almost perfectly. “You, Jared, put your hand on Camron’s shoulder and angle it so I can see your ring. No, wait, move your hand down a bit…yes, there…no back up, ah, right there. Hold that!” she took a few shots and then started rattling off a new set of instructions. “Come, this way. Follow me,” she called over her shoulder, taking her camera and walking towards a more open area.

“She’s so emotionless,” Jared whispered to me as we followed her into the field.

“They all are,” I chuckled. “Or at least the French women. They’re the most apathetic of them all.”

“Stand here and look at each other as you did on the bench. But switch spots. Jared, put your ring on your right ring finger. Now, place your hands on each others’ cheeks. Yes! Just like that!” She took a few more shots and then shouted, “Now lean into each other as if you’re going to kiss. No, actually, do a very slow, passionate kiss.” We leaned in towards each other slowly as she captured each and every movement on film until our lips met, and then a few of those. “Alright you two. We’re done. You can stop any time now. Hey!” she screamed. That definitely broke us apart, startled. “You can stop kissing now. Come look at your pictures. They turned out a lot better than I thought they would.” She held out the camera to us and started flipping through the pictures at a rate so that we could see them all, but we didn’t get a great view. I hadn’t realized it, but the ones in the field were done so that it looks like we were kissing in front of a miniature version of the Eiffel tower. She was right; they turned out amazing.



“You were great today, hun,” I said, rolling over to look him in the eyes later that night, back at the hotel.

“I’m not five,” he laughed.

“What?”

“You said that like a was a sixth grader that just made a macaroni painting and brought it home to his mommy. ‘Oh it’s great, honey, I love it! Let’s hang it up on the fridge. Good job!’” he mocked, chuckling still.

“Well, first of all, sixth graders aren’t five. They’re like twelve or something like that. Second, sixth graders usually don’t make macaroni things. Third, how about this?” I asked, smirking and flipping myself over on top of him and attacking his neck with my lips. “Oh, you were amazing today. How about you be amazing tonight?”

“Hmm, I like this better. And yes, I can be amazing tonight,” he growled, his lips finding mine as he cupped my face gently. I liked the contrast between the fierceness of his growl and the gentleness of his touch. “Oh, wait, you didn’t happen to bring anything, did you?”

“No, and I take it you didn’t either?”

“Damn it, no, I didn‘t,” he cursed.

“I guess we’re just going the dry and hopeful route tonight,”

“I don’t want to do this if we don’t have any,”

“It’s not like it’s going to be completely dry, Jared. We’ve done without before,” I pointed out, not understanding exactly why he was worrying about it.

“No, I mean I don’t want to do this unless we’re protected,”

“Aw, come on baby,” I smirked, kissing his jaw line “Take a little risk. It’s not like one of us could get pregnant or anything.”

“It’s the ‘or anything’ part that’s bothering me,” he sighed.

“STD’s you mean?”

“Yes; exactly that,”

“We’re both clean; it’s not like the disease fairy is going to come down on us and sprinkle herpes or whatever,”

“I'm more worried about HIV,”

“Why? Because it’s gay sex we’re talking about here?”

“No, that’s not it at all,”

“Then why are you so worried about it?”

He mumbled something, but even with our close proximity, I still couldn’t hear what he said.

“What? I couldn’t hear you,”

“I said, ‘I'm worried you’ll get it’,”

“Why would I get it and not you?”

He did the mumble thing again and when I asked him to repeat himself again, he did, but as he did so, he was crying slightly.

“Because I already have it,” he answered, looking away from me like he was ashamed.

“You already have it?”

“I already have it, yes,” he repeated, crying a little bit more.

“How long have you known?” I asked, sitting up again and pulling part of the blanket over my more exposed parts.

“Since I was seventeen,” he sniffled, doing the same.

“And you’ve never told me?” I asked, trying to not yell, my question coming out a lot more calm than I actually was. It was a stupid question, because we both knew that he’d never told me about his being HIV positive. “Why in the hell have you never told me? I still could have gotten it even with condoms! How could you be so stupid? How could I be so stupid?! How didn’t I realize this? We’re engaged and you’re just now telling me? That’s something you should have told me a long, long time ago, Jared. I can’t believe you would keep something like this from me!”

“Listen to me here, Camron! Listen to my side of the story! Hear me out,”

“Okay,” I sighed. “Explain.”

“I found out three years ago when I went to rehab,”

“Oh, see, now you’re just digging yourself into a deeper hole. What the hell did you go to rehab for?”

“I used to be a big heroin addict and that’s how I got infected with HIV. From the dirty needles I used to use. Trust me, I'm not proud about any of this, but I've dealt with it for so long that I've grown kind of used to it,” he said, rubbing his face in frustration, leaning back on the head board. “I don’t know why I haven’t told you before; I've thought about it so many times but I kept putting it off. And don’t think I never thought about the effect it could have on you. I worry about that every time we have sex. Every single time I want to tell you, to warn you, but after a few times of not telling you, I was worried that you’d be too mad at me for not telling you sooner. I was worried that we’d get into a fight. And that’s what happened.”

“If you would have told me sooner, than I wouldn’t be this pissed. But I absolutely am pissed at you now! Not only have you lied to me about the HIV thing but you never told me about the heroin either!”

“I haven’t done any kind of drugs since I got out of rehab. I've been clean for over two years,”

“Clean of drugs, maybe, but that’s it,”

“I know, I know, but that’s why I never told you about the other things; I knew that if I told you about the drugs, I’d have to tell you about the HIV,”

“What if I'm already positive? What if I already have it?”

“Then I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I guess you should get checked for it just in case,”

“And I think you should give me that ring back,” I said, taking the one he gave me and holding it out for him. “Because I can’t marry someone who lies to me about something so serious. I'm sorry, I love you, but I just can’t do this.”



After I got my ring back and about a thousand more apologies, I got dressed and stepped out into the hall with my room card, cell phone, and a broken heart. I called up Rina, who I knew was in a room just down the hall, and sunk down the wall, trying not to cry.

“Irene’s house of Tofu, Irene speaking. Can I offer you our tofurkey on rye today?” she answered, and just by that could I tell I would probably ruin her good mood as soon as I spoke up. But I needed her comfort right then, and I didn’t care.

“How about a heaping pile of British comfort and a side of a shoulder to cry on?” I asked, laughing lightly as the door next to me opened and Jared walked out, not even looking at me, heading for the elevator.

“What happened, Camron?”

“Can I come over? I'll explain it all then,”

“Yea, I'll have the door cracked. It’s 409, by the way,”

“Thank you, Rina; you’re a life saver,”

“No problem, hon,”

I hung up, went back into the room, and gathered all my things up, making sure not to leave even the littlest thing of mine behind. I didn’t have much anyways; all I had to pack was a duffle bag and another small, roller bag, so it wasn’t like I was lugging a whole bunch of stuff down the hallway, which I was glad for. I got to Rina’s room, pushed open the door and saw her flying towards me like I was her long lost son coming to visit. She hugged me tightly and guided me to the bedroom area of the hotel room. I put my stuff down and ran to give her another hug. I laid my head on her shoulder and she rubbed my back softly as the tears started falling from my eyes.

“What happened, Camron?” she asked for the second time that night.

“I broke up with Jared just now,” I told her, lifting my head off her shoulder.

“You broke up with him? Why?”

“He’s been lying to me this entire time. He’s HIV positive,” I explained, running a hand through my hair. “He used to be a hard core heroin addict and contracted it form dirty needles. He found out three years ago when he went to rehab, so because of that, he’s clean of drugs now.”

“Well that was a real ass hole move on his part,” she said, making me chuckle a little at her bluntness. “I'm serious! He’s an ass for just now telling you. Why did he only tell you now?”

I sighed and told her the whole story, not skipping over anything at all. When I was done, she just let out a big sigh and said, “At least he was trying to look out for you.”

“Yea, I know. It’s just that –“

I got cut off by my phone going off, so I pulled it out of my pocket and flipped it open, forgetting to check the caller ID. “Hello?”

“Is this Camron?” a voice I’d never heard before asked, sounding a little bit disheveled and/or tired. He was speaking in English, but he had a very thick French accent coating his voice.

“Yes, who is this?”

“This is Joseph Matthews. Do you know a man named Jared Rader?”

“Yes, why?” The least anyone could say was that I was baffled by this guy calling and asking me about Jared.

“I really wish you didn’t have to hear this, especially from me, but I figured since you were the person on speed dial one on his phone, that you should be the first person to know. Jared Rader was shot about fifteen minutes ago. He died on the way to the hospital. I am so sorry.”