Pass The Crayons

- December 1986 -

- David Michaelson -

Times have changed. And it is with that statement that I find myself waiting for my wife to return from work to tell her the bad news. For my entire life, I have been a gay man acting as a straight one as to avoid imprisonment and ostricisation from my neighbourhood. I married Linda knowing that the problem would not go away but I hoped that I could control myself and force myself to be sexually attracted to her.

The sex is bad. I love her but not the way I should and she knows this deep down. She is content in pretending that everything is okay because she always wanted to get married. I wanted to get married but only to keep up this facade. She is beautiful, tall and slim with a kind round face, blonde hair to her waist and piercing blue eyes. She is ahead of this time and my world but she is my best friend, not my lover.

For the past 3 years I have been indulging my true desires, we’ve been married for 4. Business meetings were secret rendezvous’ with other men in the area. This is Essex, we are not as notorious as our Brighton counterparts but we have an underground movement that wishes for nothing more than for us to live the way we want. To love the people we want. To fuck the people we desire the most.

But that’s what got me into this mess. I’m infected. I have a disease within me and it will not wither away and die until I die with it. It started with what I thought was a flu. It lasted a lot longer than usual but it was December, not uncommon for the weather. Then the fatigue set in, every walk to a coffee machine was like I had walked 3 miles. I knew something wasn’t right but I brushed it off, I thought it would pass. Then the other signs developed; weird rashes on my shoulders, dramatic weight loss without any change in diet, night sweats and the worst, the nausea. I felt sick all the fucking time. I thought it was my conscience, the guilt of being pushed into by a man and enjoying it.

I went to the doctor’s a year ago. I confessed everything, thinking I needed some kind of psychiatrist, that my body was creating these problems to get me to stop but he was more concerned by that. I had blood tests, first ones a week apart for a month then every 3 weeks and the finally every 3 months. My results came in this morning.

My hands were sweaty against the steering wheel and my vision blurred. I would finally know what was wrong and I would be able to get better. What should have been a 20 minute drive took 13. I was anxious. My heart was pounding but it almost stopped when I heard ‘Mr Michaelson, Doctor Graham will see you now.’

I felt like a condemned man on death row walking to his office. It felt like an eternity getting past the formalities, a brief handshake, a seat offering and a small smile from the greying doctor.

‘Mr Michaelson, I am afraid that your sexual discrepancies have made you a very sick man. Your results have come back as you being HIV Positive, type 1...’

I wanted to hit him. I wanted to run. I wanted to be sick. I wanted to cry. HIV positive. My life is over. I can’t keep this from Linda. She is going to leave me, take everything and run for hills. She is going to forget about me but it’s what I deserve. Doctor Graham talked on about new treatments, no guarantee that they will work. It’s understandable, it’s a relatively new disease. The medical world don’t understand much about it but I am going to die before my time. If they don’t have a cure, I am not going to survive this.

And this is how I find myself sat here, waiting to destroy my wife’s perfect life and begin the road to my grave.

- Linda Michaelson -

It doesn’t get easier as you grow older to keep a secret. I wanted to tell everyone I loved but I had to be certain. I had to know that this wasn’t a suspicion. That it was real. I’m walking up to my front door as slow as I can. 3 months I have kept this under wraps. David is going to be delighted.

We don’t have the best marriage. I know he flinches when I touch him intimately, I know that he isn’t as in love with me as I am with him but I want to spend the rest of my life with him. I wouldn’t have married him if I didn’t. I want this news to put the twinkle back in his eyes, it’s been missing for so long.

I walk in as calmly as I can, I want to chuck everything down and indulge him but I wait. Undoing each button of my coat, I can hear him idly greet me and ask me to come to the dining room. I do it with haste.

‘David, we need to talk.’

‘Linda, I want you to know that I really love you and I have something to tell you. It’s important.’

I’m looking at him questioningly, he has a poker face but I don’t want to wait. I just blurt it out, like words falling out of mouth.

‘I’m pregnant.’

- David Michaelson -

I can feel everything crashing down on top of me. I now have two choices, I tell the truth or I lie.

‘I can’t wait to be a Dad...’