Olga Dies Dreaming(79)
At first, it certainly seemed that way. His sister had told him that the doctor was cool with her plan, that it was a simple favor. But it became apparent that Olga hadn’t told anybody shit. First, the nurse tried to take Olga’s blood, which made his sister insist on seeing the doctor personally, which then, understandably, made the nurse feel insulted.
Prieto could hear her muttering to the other nurses about how the doctor probably hadn’t drawn blood since med school, but Olga wasn’t paying attention and, at the end of the day, it wasn’t Olga’s arm that was about to be poked.
“I can’t believe they already lost power,” she said while she scrolled her phone.
“Honestly? Most of the island didn’t have power back from Irma.…”
“What’s going to happen?”
“They were already fucked, now they will be fucked in the dark.”
“Jesus, Prieto! Way to be a Debbie Downer over here!”
He pinched his eyes as he appraised his sister. Did she think, moments before having to get a fucking AIDS test, he was going to muster the energy to play Mr. Optimist? He was tired of this role. Before he could reply, the doctor walked in. Prieto watched as she absorbed his presence and realized that she had no idea of the favor they were about to ask. While it had occurred to him that perhaps this scheme of Olga’s violated some sort of ethical code, it suddenly dawned on him that Dr. Gallagher might be the type of person to be affronted by the request. He and his sister could very well be thrown out in a matter of moments and he’d be back where he started.
“Congressman Acevedo!” Dr. Gallagher exclaimed. Her expression transitioned into a smile. “It’s a real pleasure—a surprise, but a pleasure. Olga, I don’t think I’d made the connection that you and our fine congressman were related!”
Olga winked at her brother from her perch on the exam table. Puta. He knew this favor was for him, but he fucking hated the way she always managed to get her way. Prieto shook the doctor’s hand.
“Well, Marilyn, you know, I don’t like to go around bragging, but believe me, I’m very proud of my brother!”
Dr. Gallagher now paused. Prieto could tell she was a smart woman, beyond just the medical books. “So,” she began, “and don’t get me wrong, I’m a political junkie, so it’s a delight to meet you, but it’s … uncommon to have a brother accompany his sister to her gynecologist.”
Olga replied before he could think of an explanation.
“Well, Marilyn, as I mentioned in my email … some stuff has come up recently that made me think it would be good to do a full HIV/STD screen.”
He found himself relieved, but irked, that Olga always had an answer for everything.
“Okay,” Dr. Gallagher answered, slowly, knowing there was more.
“It’s just that it’s not me that needs the screening—”
There was a pause. Prieto looked down at his shoes and the vinyl beige marbled tiles.
“It’s me,” Prieto said, raising his hand up. “I, um, engaged in some risky behavior with someone I now know contracted an STD and I just want to, confidentially, get myself checked out. I don’t really have a personal physician that I trust.”
“What kind of STD? Do you know?” Marilyn asked.
He swallowed. “HIV.”
“You know, Congressman, they have home tests that you can send in the mail, completely confidential. Totally anonymous.”
“Marilyn?” Olga now interjected. “Would you let your brother take a correspondence course AIDS test?”
Marilyn shook her head no. There was a silence; Prieto wondered if her sense of rules and regulations was as gray as his sister’s.
“November sixth. Seven P.M. The Bowery Hotel. Be there.”
“Excuse me?” Prieto asked.
“My husband and I are cochairing a gala for a charter school network we support. We need a high-wattage keynote.”
Damn, Prieto thought, everyone really does have a price. Three attempts to get blood later, Dr. Gallagher finally found the vein.
“Now, Olga, the lab will reach out by phone in a few days—”
“Wait!” Prieto interrupted. “I, uh, I’d read about these rapid HIV tests. You know, where they tell you right away. I was kind of hoping we could do one of those?”
“Congressman,” Dr. Gallagher offered, “I’m sorry to disappoint you, but my office isn’t equipped to do the rapid test. That might be an oversight on our part; it’s just that HIV testing … my patient demographic is mainly concerned about weight loss and fertility specialists. I’ll have to send the results out to the lab.”
Prieto sighed and the doctor continued.
“Olga, don’t ignore random calls, because they won’t leave a message and they don’t send me the results. It’s truly confidential.”
He was seated on a chair, keeping his focus on the tiles, one hand on his head, the other putting pressure on the site where blood was drawn, trying not to hyperventilate.
“Congressman,” the doctor said as she squatted down so that they were eye level. Like Lourdes’s pediatrician would do. “Probably, you’re worrying more than you need to. But I just want to remind you, there are a lot of resources out there now and people with HIV live very long, robust lives. Especially, if you don’t mind me being so frank, people with some access and connections. Don’t spend too much time sulking, okay?”