My Whole Life

This man is my whole life. When disease is a daily part of your life, the world contracts so only the people who are top priorities are in it. And after twelve years and ten living together, Will is at the top of my list.

He comes home in his EMT uniform, looking exhausted after actually having worked a day shift. He looks sad and I know what’s coming. Will’s worked as an EMT for ten years, since we graduated from GW, but he still comes home upset if there is someone he couldn’t save who he thought he should have been able to save.

I’m sitting on the couch, watching the news and I immediately shut it off and hold out my arms for him. He’ll tell me about it later, but what he needs now is a hug, He sort of squishes down so he can fit against my body because he is so much bigger. I lean against the back of the couch and bury my face in the spun honey that is his hair. I hold him as tightly as I could, feeling like it isn’t tight enough. I don’t say anything for a while, then I ask, “What is it, baby?” We’re not big on endearments like ‘honey’ or ‘sweetie’ but ‘baby’ was one we adopted for no apparent reason.
“Oh Tom...this guy, this young guy, had a heart attack and we tried to revive him all the way to the hospital, but we found out the guy had AIDS and didn’t have a chance.” I don’t know what to say. I know why Will is upset, but I can’t guarantee that won’t happen to me. So I don’t say anything. I just hug him tighter.

We get into bed that night, for once together. Going to bed together has become such a luxury that we lingered over it for a good half hour. Will opens his arms for me and I crawl into them. His skin smells sweet and spicy like it always does. I kiss the hollow between his neck and collarbone and he smiles for the first time tonight.
“I love you.” I say quietly.
“I know. I love you.”
“I know.” This is our thing; we never say ‘I love you, too.’ I suppose it’s because that makes it sound like one of us has the upper hand and really, neither of us do. That’s what partners are.

Will takes a condom out of the night table where we keep our considerable stash. I reach down and massage his penis until he’s hard then I put the condom on him. When we’ve worn ourselves out, which believe me, takes a lot longer than you might thin, we go to sleep.

A lot of couples I know retire to opposite sides of the bed to sleep, but we’ve never done that, not even once. We always sleep tangled together in the middle, I know when Will has the night shift, I can’t sleep soundly until his arms are around me. I set my beeper for seven o’ clock so I can get up and take my meds. Will settles himself against my chest and promptly falls asleep. I listen to him breathe, watch his eyelids flicker and wonder what he’s dreaming. I can see his artery pulsing in his neck and I touch it, feeling it go up and down under my fingers. I shift my weight and Will shifts with me as though we are connected. I put my head down and let sleep take hold of me.

When my beeper goes off, I slide out from under Will and pad off to the bathroom. I used to be concerned that I’d wake him when I get up to medicate but that has vanished. Only I ever hear my beeper and that’s fine with me. I take the three bottles out of the mirror that are all the way to the left shake out three pills, two pills, one pill. I put them in my mouth and swallow them in quick succession with quick sips of water.

I am lucky and I than science everyday for these pills that have kept me alive sine I was seventeen. I examine my reflection in the mirror to make sure I don’t have the beginnings of sores or rashes but all I see is my dark hair, dark eyes and olive toned skin. The circles under my eyes are from lack of sleep, not illness and they have faded since yesterday.

I carefully climb back into bed. Will is face down, snoring lightly. I try to curl back under him but he starts kissing my neck instead.
“I’m sorry.” I murmur.
“S’ok.” he says, not opening his eyes. A moment later, he is asleep again and so am I.

We wake up for real a couple hours later. Will nuzzles my neck and I twist so I can kiss him. We’ve long since stopped caring about kissing each other right when we get up. He runs his hands over me and tosses me a condom. He begins massaging me the way I massaged him to make him hard. It’s not like when we were in college and we got hard just looking at each other. Things like top and bottom don’t apply to us; most sexual things with us are interchangeable. We just have to be careful.

In the shower later, he washes my back and I wash his.
“What are we doing today?” Will asks, stepping out of the shower and wrapping a towel around his waist. He holds one out for me and wraps me in it, pausing to hold me for an almost imperceptible beat.
“We actually have the day off.: I say, rubbing the water out of my hair. Will grins. I love this particular grin of his; he saves it just for me. His green eyes burn emerald and the smile just lights up his face.
“No rehearsal?” he asks, referring to the school drama club that I play piano for.
“Tomorrow.” He nods. “You’re not working?” I ask.
“Tomorrow night.”
“Good.” I kiss his nose and he flicks shaving cream at me. I take it off of my nose and wipe it on his. I don’t usually shave on the weekends. Too much effort. And Will likes me scruffy.