The Other Side(91)
Mr. Street nods. “Johnny’s known I have AIDS since I moved in. I find it’s better to be upfront with people. It helps me sort out the hateful assholes from the start.”
I’ve never heard Mr. Street cuss in his own polished voice. His bold directness makes me smile.
His smile broadens slightly when he sees mine. It’s the equivalent of a high five. “Johnny has been taking me to my doctor’s appointments the past several weeks. I told him I could drive myself, but he insisted. He’s a bit surly, if you haven’t noticed. I didn’t have the heart to argue when he was trying to make a kind gesture.”
“I’m familiar with his brand of surly. The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, apparently.”
He laughs, which leads to coughing. I move forward and offer him the glass of water. After drinking half of it down, he sets it back on the coaster. “You’re certainly a lot alike. The persona you present to the world is not who you truly are. Though I do admit that when we’re out and someone directs a slur at us assuming Johnny and I are a couple, it is quite gratifying when his grouchy side rears its head and he tells them to, ‘Fuck off and mind your own damn business.’” He chuckles to himself at the memory. “I think being sober has been difficult for him and keeping busy has been key. Checking in on me and Mrs. Bennett before she moved out, helped keep him occupied. And worrying about you and Cliff, of course.”
“You knew he was my dad when you told him to talk to me yesterday at the hospital, didn’t you?”
He nods. “Yes. We’ve shared a lot these past weeks during our car rides and long stretches spent in waiting rooms. He told me the whole story. He carries around a lot of shame about so much in his life. I think that’s why he fills this house with people who need help. It’s like he’s trying to redeem himself.”
I think about that. As long as I’ve lived in this house, Johnny’s tenants have always been misfits, or sick, or down on their luck. They’ve always been people who struggle in one way or another. Maybe that’s why he charges so little for rent too. He’s just trying to help and I never saw it.
Mr. Street continues, separating me from my thoughts. “He was afraid to tell you for fear it would make your life harder, or that you would reject him completely.”
I shrug. “I wish he would’ve told me years ago, but I guess I understand why he didn’t. Inviting people in when you’re at your lowest isn’t ideal because you don’t want to bring them down too. My mom—well, my grandma, I guess—she always told me that I taint people. I believed her, especially after Nina died. I’m sure Johnny told you the story.”
He nods contemplatively. “He did. It wasn’t your fault that she took her life, Toby. We are all responsible for our choices.”
I look down at my feet when I ask my next question because I know I’m out of line, but I need to know. “Do you blame Henry?” I leave the, for infecting you with the HIV virus, unsaid.
“We are all responsible for our choices,” he repeats. “No. When we got back together, I never asked him if he’d been with anyone else while we were apart. I guess I assumed he hadn’t because I hadn’t. I should’ve asked. It was years later when he got sick and was diagnosed. We both knew I had it too. How could I not? We’d been together for years at that point. I was angry. Angry at him. Angry at me. Angry at the man who infected him. Angry that gay men dying wasn’t a priority for government-funded medical research. But then I realized that my anger wasn’t doing me or Henry any good and that if our time together was limited, I didn’t want to waste it. So I focused on him, making sure he was comfortable, taking his meds, eating good food, getting rest, and making sure he knew he was loved, and forgiven. Because Henry never got angry—it wasn’t in his nature—but he felt guilt intensely. He hated what he’d done to me. It broke his heart and his spirit. No one should be allowed to die with the burden of guilt like that.”
I finally look up and his eyes are on me. “Did your forgiveness help ease it?” I know guilt, it’s a fickle bastard.
“One can never truly know what goes on inside another’s head, but I like to think it did. We had the best talks of our lives in his final weeks.” He nods as if to reassure himself and the look on his face grows wistful. “I like to think it did,” he repeats quietly to himself. He looks tired all of a sudden, but it’s the content kind of exhaustion, not the ragged kind that’s borne from stress or illness.
“You should get some sleep,” I urge. “I just wanted to let you know that I’m across the hall now if you need anything.”
“Thank you. And likewise, I’m here if you ever need to talk,” he offers in return. “And Toby?”
I look back over my shoulder on my way to the door. “Yeah?”
“Release the guilt. Forgive yourself. Nina would want that.”
I don’t nod. I don’t say anything. But eye contact tells him I heard him. When I’m out the door, I have to sit down on the stairs and think.
Sometimes in life, there are moments of clarity so blinding in their revelation that they change everything. It’s usually something small, something obvious, that we wonder how we missed it before. If I put myself in Nina’s shoes, would I blame me? Or what if Nina had given me my bottle of sleeping pills because she was worried I wasn’t sleeping enough and was trying to help? Would I blame her if I decided to use them later to end my life instead? No, I wouldn’t. Nina only ever had the best intentions for others. She was human, she made mistakes, but she never wanted those mistakes to affect anyone else. It’s the reason she disappeared from our lives when she was using. She didn't want her demons to become ours. She saw distance as a shield, for us, not her. She tried to protect me my entire life from what she believed to be her flaws. I’ve done the same thing. I’ve hidden. For two years, I’ve hidden from everything and everyone. I thought if I didn’t let people in, I was protecting them…from me. Alice was the exception. I couldn’t stay away. I can’t stay away.