Faithfully
She Speaks In Paragraphs
Everything changed the year after graduation. She had left me in our little town of Adin, California, flying off to Julliard on a full-ride scholarship, with a promise to always write everyday and to visit every break. I stayed behind in Adin, taking courses at the community college in Business Management with plans to take over my father’s company when he retired.
It was in the middle of December, right around the time she was scheduled to come home. She would have gone to stay with her father, but he was busy traveling the world; something about wanting to live it up before he died. I had promised her that I would pick her up from the airport, and she was bubbling over with excitement about all the stories she wanted to tell me about New York.
“I miss you so much, Jack! I can’t wait to see you. I have so much I have to tell you. I saw so many shows in New York, they were absolutely brilliant, although the woman in The Last Five Years could have not been so sharp, but that’s beside the point. I should be there in about an hour, are you going to be there?” Estella was always speaking in paragraphs; there was nothing one-word about her. I couldn’t help but chuckle, it was nice to know that New York hadn’t changed anything about her.
“Yeah, I’ll be there. Don’t worry.” I said, smiling at the sound of her voice. I hadn’t realized how much I would have missed it until she was actually gone. It was a lot like the hum of the air conditioning, you get so used to it while it’s there, the silence is deafening when it’s gone.
“Oh, I’m not worried. I trust you’ll be there, I was merely asking to reassure myself. They’re having us board now, I’ll see you when I get in town.” She hung up the phone and I found myself watching the clock, wasting away the slowest hour of my life.
I drove through the snow and ice to the airport, parking near the front so she wouldn’t have to walk far. I ran into the airport, searching for her gate. I finally found it with 10 minutes to spare. I sighed in relief, sitting down on one of the chairs as I watched the window anxiously for signs of landing planes.
Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the plane was landing and the gates were opening, and people were flooding out. I stood up immediately, searching the crowd for her familiar face.
“Jack!”
I whirled around, grinning like a fool when I heard her call my name. I saw her, running towards me with the biggest smile on her face. I opened my arms and she leapt into them, hugging me tightly. I spun around once, setting her down easily. I frowned; she seemed so much…smaller. I put my hands on her shoulder, examining her.
“Have you been eating up there?” I asked, noticing her already small frame was tinier. She smiled up at me, an amused twinkle in her eyes.
“Of course I’ve been eating, Jack. You didn’t honestly think that being in New York would make me suddenly develop anorexia nervosa, did you? I would like to think I have better sense than that, thank you very much.” She said, looking at me with an expression I had come to know well. It was her you should have known that without having to ask look, one she used often on me.
“Right. Sorry. It’s just that you’re so…small.” I said, motioning to her thinning frame.
“Well, I have been a bit sick for the past few weeks, but it’s nothing to worry about. I will be feeling fine soon enough.” She had said it with such confidence that I believed her.
I took her back to my house, where she would be staying for the next two weeks before she had to go back to school. As the days passed and we spent as much time together as possible, I noticed her getting sicker. She would sleep longer, cough harder, need to sit down more often than usual, and it was starting to worry me.
After days of trying to convince her to go to the doctor, she finally caved, insisting that I was overreacting but going to please me anyway. I drove her up in my dad’s old truck, and we walked right into the doctor I had been going to since I was a kid.
I walked with her all the way to the room, and after a moment’s hesitation, the doctor let me in. Of course, Estella did have something to do with that, convincing the man that I needed to be with her at all times. I sat in a chair in the corner while she downgraded everything that had been happening in the past week, and I gave the doctor an accurate story of what had happened. He frowned a lot, asking her a lot of questions about her parents and what kind of diseases they might have suffered from.
When she told him that her mother had AIDS, his frown deepened and he asked if she would mind taking a blood test. She said she didn’t mind, so he took a blood sample and left the room, promising he would be right back. This was where I started to get worried, but Estella was calm as ever, humming music from Broadway musicals as if the doc had just gone for a water break and not an HIV test.
We waited for what seemed like hours until finally the doctor came back. His face was somber and solemn and then my heart started racing and pounding because this could only mean one thing, but I was hoping and praying that I was wrong, that he was pulling a joke, a horrible one, but a joke nonetheless.
“I’m sorry, Miss Jackson. You’re HIV positive.”
The humming stopped and the silence in the room was deafening. She stared ahead blankly, not looking at anything or anyone, off in her own world as she digested his words. I couldn’t tear my eyes away from her. It seemed impossible that she would be sick with something that would end her life so suddenly. This couldn’t be happening.
“Thank you, Dr. Branson. I assume there’s nothing that can be done?”
“Unfortunately, no. If we had caught it sooner, perhaps we could have done some sort of treatment to keep the HIV cells from multiplying, however, they have already transformed into the AIDS virus. I’m sorry, but there’s nothing we can do.” He sounded genuinely sorry, as if he understood that this virus was going to kill one of the brightest people on this Earth.
“I see. Thank you, Dr. Branson. One more question, then I’ll stop, I promise. How long?” She didn’t have to elaborate for me or Doc to know that she was talking about her suddenly shortened life span.
“A little over a year.” He answered quietly. I saw her face freeze for a moment, and I knew what she was thinking. A year wouldn’t be enough for her to finish college, let alone make it to Broadway. She quickly composed herself, giving Dr. Branson a gentle smile before thanking him and leaving the room quickly.
I followed her, barely giving Dr. Branson a goodbye wave before I was out the door, following her to the car.
“Estella,” I started, but she put a hand up, stopping me in my tracks.
“I don’t want to hear it. Please, Jack.” She said softly, trying her hardest to keep her voice from cracking. I exhaled, nodding. I wasn’t going to make this any harder on her. I opened the door for her and watched as she climbed in, and we drove back to my house in silence.
It was in the middle of December, right around the time she was scheduled to come home. She would have gone to stay with her father, but he was busy traveling the world; something about wanting to live it up before he died. I had promised her that I would pick her up from the airport, and she was bubbling over with excitement about all the stories she wanted to tell me about New York.
“I miss you so much, Jack! I can’t wait to see you. I have so much I have to tell you. I saw so many shows in New York, they were absolutely brilliant, although the woman in The Last Five Years could have not been so sharp, but that’s beside the point. I should be there in about an hour, are you going to be there?” Estella was always speaking in paragraphs; there was nothing one-word about her. I couldn’t help but chuckle, it was nice to know that New York hadn’t changed anything about her.
“Yeah, I’ll be there. Don’t worry.” I said, smiling at the sound of her voice. I hadn’t realized how much I would have missed it until she was actually gone. It was a lot like the hum of the air conditioning, you get so used to it while it’s there, the silence is deafening when it’s gone.
“Oh, I’m not worried. I trust you’ll be there, I was merely asking to reassure myself. They’re having us board now, I’ll see you when I get in town.” She hung up the phone and I found myself watching the clock, wasting away the slowest hour of my life.
I drove through the snow and ice to the airport, parking near the front so she wouldn’t have to walk far. I ran into the airport, searching for her gate. I finally found it with 10 minutes to spare. I sighed in relief, sitting down on one of the chairs as I watched the window anxiously for signs of landing planes.
Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the plane was landing and the gates were opening, and people were flooding out. I stood up immediately, searching the crowd for her familiar face.
“Jack!”
I whirled around, grinning like a fool when I heard her call my name. I saw her, running towards me with the biggest smile on her face. I opened my arms and she leapt into them, hugging me tightly. I spun around once, setting her down easily. I frowned; she seemed so much…smaller. I put my hands on her shoulder, examining her.
“Have you been eating up there?” I asked, noticing her already small frame was tinier. She smiled up at me, an amused twinkle in her eyes.
“Of course I’ve been eating, Jack. You didn’t honestly think that being in New York would make me suddenly develop anorexia nervosa, did you? I would like to think I have better sense than that, thank you very much.” She said, looking at me with an expression I had come to know well. It was her you should have known that without having to ask look, one she used often on me.
“Right. Sorry. It’s just that you’re so…small.” I said, motioning to her thinning frame.
“Well, I have been a bit sick for the past few weeks, but it’s nothing to worry about. I will be feeling fine soon enough.” She had said it with such confidence that I believed her.
I took her back to my house, where she would be staying for the next two weeks before she had to go back to school. As the days passed and we spent as much time together as possible, I noticed her getting sicker. She would sleep longer, cough harder, need to sit down more often than usual, and it was starting to worry me.
After days of trying to convince her to go to the doctor, she finally caved, insisting that I was overreacting but going to please me anyway. I drove her up in my dad’s old truck, and we walked right into the doctor I had been going to since I was a kid.
I walked with her all the way to the room, and after a moment’s hesitation, the doctor let me in. Of course, Estella did have something to do with that, convincing the man that I needed to be with her at all times. I sat in a chair in the corner while she downgraded everything that had been happening in the past week, and I gave the doctor an accurate story of what had happened. He frowned a lot, asking her a lot of questions about her parents and what kind of diseases they might have suffered from.
When she told him that her mother had AIDS, his frown deepened and he asked if she would mind taking a blood test. She said she didn’t mind, so he took a blood sample and left the room, promising he would be right back. This was where I started to get worried, but Estella was calm as ever, humming music from Broadway musicals as if the doc had just gone for a water break and not an HIV test.
We waited for what seemed like hours until finally the doctor came back. His face was somber and solemn and then my heart started racing and pounding because this could only mean one thing, but I was hoping and praying that I was wrong, that he was pulling a joke, a horrible one, but a joke nonetheless.
“I’m sorry, Miss Jackson. You’re HIV positive.”
The humming stopped and the silence in the room was deafening. She stared ahead blankly, not looking at anything or anyone, off in her own world as she digested his words. I couldn’t tear my eyes away from her. It seemed impossible that she would be sick with something that would end her life so suddenly. This couldn’t be happening.
“Thank you, Dr. Branson. I assume there’s nothing that can be done?”
“Unfortunately, no. If we had caught it sooner, perhaps we could have done some sort of treatment to keep the HIV cells from multiplying, however, they have already transformed into the AIDS virus. I’m sorry, but there’s nothing we can do.” He sounded genuinely sorry, as if he understood that this virus was going to kill one of the brightest people on this Earth.
“I see. Thank you, Dr. Branson. One more question, then I’ll stop, I promise. How long?” She didn’t have to elaborate for me or Doc to know that she was talking about her suddenly shortened life span.
“A little over a year.” He answered quietly. I saw her face freeze for a moment, and I knew what she was thinking. A year wouldn’t be enough for her to finish college, let alone make it to Broadway. She quickly composed herself, giving Dr. Branson a gentle smile before thanking him and leaving the room quickly.
I followed her, barely giving Dr. Branson a goodbye wave before I was out the door, following her to the car.
“Estella,” I started, but she put a hand up, stopping me in my tracks.
“I don’t want to hear it. Please, Jack.” She said softly, trying her hardest to keep her voice from cracking. I exhaled, nodding. I wasn’t going to make this any harder on her. I opened the door for her and watched as she climbed in, and we drove back to my house in silence.