WAITING

My fourth flight to Chicago in less than a year has been delayed by a couple of hours. Not that it makes much difference--the Blue Light Special won't return from his new full-time and night classes until after 9 p.m.

A grueling schedule, however, is hardly the biggest change in his heretofore charmed life. On March 12, he went to the local Chicago STD clinic for his second rapid HIV test in three months at the end of the so-called window period that follows high-risk behavior. If infection has occurred, it takes this long for the antibodies the immune system produces to fight it in the blood. He called me late that night, a Monday, with distressing news.

"At first the woman at the clinic told me that I was OK, that I could leave but then she came running after me and said I needed to take the test again. If you're negative the test is supposed to show two solid red lines but my line was more pink. It didn't turn red the second time either so she drew blood for a lab analysis."

The story sounded a little peculiar and even though the Blue Light Special isn't the most reliable reporter, I chose to believe him when he said that the results were inconclusive instead of evidence that he had seroconverted. He sounded pretty chipper on the phone, a posture that he has kept up for much of the waiting period.

But a quick internet search for information about rapid HIV tests before going to bed that night snuffed out what little hope I had. According to the literature, the tests are highly accurate and there wasn't any mention of "inconclusive results." I went to sleep feeling as shitty as I had when David, my first and only other serious relationship, had told me he was positive in 1992. Not again, not again.

I got up the next morning determined to go about my day as usual--shades of 9/11--but before finishing the Times, I e-mailed Master Spinner and Live Life Out Loud, two good friends who are well-connected in the AIDS field, asking them to give me a call at their earliest convenience.

Master Spinner called amost immediately and informed me that the "morning after treatment" had to be administered within hours of suspected infection not positive test results. He also verified that clinics in Europe were more likely to offer it which would explain why the Blue Light Special had come across it in his German Google search.

Sometimes they'll give it to you in an American emergency room if you tell them you have good reason to think you have been exposed he added.

I wondered if perhaps this explained why the Blue Light Special had visited the ER twice in early December shortly after we had gotten back in touch after a two-month estrangement. He insisted he had sought medical attention because of his reaction to crystal methamphetamine use, but his severe anxiety might also have been symptomatic of a growing fear about HIV infection due to unsafe sex and slamming with a positive partner.

Master Spinner also suggested that the Blue Light Special try to get into a scientific research program, a strategy that had extended the life of his first lover who, still going going strong, was among the first people to receive AZT more than 20 years ago through a pilot program at the National Institutes of Health.

Researchers are always looking for recent sero-converts he said.

When I expressed my incredulity that this could have happened to a man pushing 40 pretty hard, he offered his own story to help me put human behavior in perspective.

Last year somebody gave me a booty bump. I let the guy fuck me without a condom, toothus tacitly explaining his familiarity with the state of morning after treatment.

There you go: if someone as intelligent and accomplished as Master Spinner could compromise his health in this way, why should I expect more from the Blue Light Special or anyone else?

I managed to keep my routine going even after my conversation with the Master Spinner, but my mind was consumed with fear, rage and hopelessness. I kept reminding myself that the medical advances that had occurred in the 14 years since David's death might keep the Blue Light Special alive longer than me given the history of heart disease and cancer in my blood relatives.

The knowledge didn't comfort me much. I kept asking over and over How could he have exposed himself? Am I prepared to deal with even the long-distance drama of his new condition given that his hypochondria levels are off the chart to begin with?

Then I began to think about the unmistakable parallels between the Blue Light Special and David on their path to seroconversion, at least in relation to their impact on my own status: in both instances I had withdrawn from them sexually well before they tested positive. Did I have some highly developed sense of self preservation?

Of course this could very well be a case of chickens and eggs that has nothing to do with a sixth sense and everything to do with the end of passion. As each of us turned to other sexual outlets, I continued to practice safer sex and they didn't. This led to a bout of sexual insecurity. Was my refusal to engage in unsafe sex with men I loved who attracted me powerfully an indication that I was less sensual than they and ultimately the reason that they sought satisfaction elsewhere?

Guilt nagged at me a bit, too. Would the Blue Light Special have seroconvered if I hadn't sent him home from the Pines in late September after discovering that he had partied with several guys even though I had told him the summer before that I would never tolerate this behavior again? He's his own keeper but I wonder if the emotional support that I have always provided might have helped him resist the siren call of drugs and unprotected sex during a period of unemployment and loneliness in a new city?

Live Life Out Loud called me from the Metroliner after I returned from my lunchtime swim. She had been in New York for the day, taking a former colleague of ours who now suffers from liver cancer, to the doctor. Her knowledge about testing and the current state of treatment was a lot more extensive than Master Spinner's.

Did he have a flu-like illness shortly after his high-risk behavior? she asked, noting that this is common among many new cases of HIV infection. He had, back in early December, shortly before his first visit to the STD clinic when he had tested negative.

By the time we finished our long conversation, I had little doubt that the lab results would confirm that the Blue Light Special had tested positive but Live Life Out Loud did make me feel a whole lot better when she told me that first-rate treatment could be obtained in Chicago regardless of ability to pay or immigration status thanks to the Ryan White Act.

It's ironic she observed. If he had cancer, he would be shit out of luck but because it's HIV, he probably can even get free dental care.

I summed up both conversations in e-mails and sent them to the Blue Light Special. When he called later that night, he sounded as if he didn't have a care in the world. When our conversation eventually returned to HIV, I briefed him about what I had learned and asked if he wanted me to make an appointment for him at the Core Center, the clinic Live Life Out Loud had recommended, so that I could accompany him if he turned out to be positive. He agreed.

The next morning I called the Core Center and was surprised to learn that his name and social security number already were in their system. They must have recorded the information when he was admitted to the Cook County Hospital emergency room, part of the same system, in December.

As the week wore on, I began to adjust to his new reality but I still wasn't prepared for the call I got last Tuesday night, March 20. I knew immediately from the tone of his voice that something was wrong.

Thug Lover, his roommate, had stayed home from work that day. The lobby had notified him that the woman who had tested the Blue Light Special at the STD clinic was downstairs and wanted to see him. When he refused to let her up, she left a note asking him to have the Blue Light Special call her. She also wanted Thug Lover to come to the clinic for an HIV test. Although he and the Blue Light Special haven't had sex in years, he complied. Thug Lover tested negative. Although she refused to tell him anything about the Blue Light Special's status, the reasons behind her presence in their lobby couldn't have been more obvious.

The Chicago Department of Health must track new HIV infections aggressively. This may explain why Gonzo, the guy the Blue Light Special believes infected him, urged him never to reveal that they had had sex to the Health Department.

They're always coming around he said after informing the Blue Light Special of his HIV status and telling him that he hadn't ever been sick enough to take protease inhibitors.

Of course the Blue Light Special DID reveal that he had sex with Gonzo when the STD clinic worker pressed him for details about his recent sexual contacts in the extensive interview that followed his "inconclusive" rapid HIV test results. So it probably wasn't a coincidence when Gonzo sent him an e-mail asking how he was doing shortly after his visit to the clinic. When I heard this, I suddenly was momentarily sympathetic to arguments for quarantining the infected.

As the Blue Light Special relayed this latest drama, he also hit me with a big dose of self-pity blaming Gonzo for infecting him, criticizing the United States for not offering him the morning after treatment, asking why it had happened to him without ever acknowledging his role and asking over and over again, What's next?

Apparently, Thug Lover had even less tolerance for this affect than I do.

He said if I jumped off our balcony [on the 25th floor] he'd go downstairs and kick my ass.

I took a slightly more gentle tack, reminding him that things could be a lot worse but also acknowledging that he likely would experience a profound psychological change.

Do you remember how when we went to tea in the Pines we always used to speculate who was positive and who wasn't? How we kind of divided the crowd into us and them?

The Blue Light Special picked up on my train of thought pretty quickly.

You mean now it's me and them? he asked.

Exactly.

A part of me thinks it would be best for him if he gets involved with an HIV support group that has some good role models for him, but I'm also a little scared that I am going to lose him to the HIV world. People gravitate to their own kind. Once you're infected, it seems awfully hard not to take advantage of what some HIV positive people call the benefits of "membership" which include, but are not limited to, unsafe sex with other infected partners. The kind of behavior you now observe constantly in the demimonde, the kind of understandably selfish behavior that normalizes unsafe sex for young people who may not fully appreciate the seriousness of the illness. If we can't expect people to protect themselves from getting infected, how can we expect them to behave "responsibly" once they are?

Unemployment has given me plenty of time to analyze all aspects of the Blue Light Special's seroconversion. I had an epiphany today while swimming. Perhaps subconsciously he wanted to become HIV positive so he could blame his failed acting career on his health. Or maybe he really, really wants to get a prescription for steroids and bulk up what already is very a nearly a perfect body in everyone's eyes but his own.

In any case, my plane hasn't even taken off yet and already I'm beginning to tire a little of the drama, especially after the phone call I got yesterday from Thug Lover, just before he took off for Dresden for a long-planned vacation. It didn't come as a total surprise because the Blue Light Special had told me that he had asked for my number.

What are we going to do about our stepchild? he asked after we awkwardly exchanged pleasantries. We've never discussed it, but I'm pretty sure he thinks he's the Daddy and I'm the Mommy in our unconventional threesome.

This from the guy who didn't want to hear why I had sent the Blue Light Special home from the Pines because it was "something between us"!

Nevertheless, I kept my cool and told him that I had scheduled this trip to coincide with the results of his confirmatory test and a follow-up medical appointment if necessary. He seemed more relieved to learn that the Core Center would provide treatment regardless of his immigration status or ability to pay. Otherwise, I'm pretty sure he would have tried to persuade me to let the Blue Light Special live with me in New York, or support his advice that he return to Germany. Thug Lover didn't get where he is in corporate America without being a skilled manipulator.