Nate chuckled, remembering one of his first conversations with Cody. “If the world didn’t suck, we’d fall off.”
His dad’s brow wrinkled in confusion, but he smiled. “I guess.”
“I’m sorry I was such a jerk to you. All this time—”
“It doesn’t matter.” His dad glanced at his watch. “It’s after seven. If we’re going to call—”
“I really don’t want to talk to her right now.”
“You can’t put it off forever.”
“I know.”
“Fair enough.” His dad stood up, but didn’t move to leave. “I’m working tomorrow. Most of the weekend too. Low man on the pole and all that. I bought you a turkey TV dinner. Not much of a Thanksgiving feast, but at least you won’t go hungry. And there’s money on the kitchen table if you need to get anything from the grocery store.”
“That’s fine.”
His dad made it as far as the door before stopping again. “Nate?”
“Yeah, Dad?”
“That guy on your record is right, you know. It really does get better. I know high school seems like the whole world right now, but ten years from now, none of this will matter a bit. You’ll have forgotten about most of it.”
Nate nodded, not knowing if he believed his dad and Howard Jones or not.
Thanksgiving Day wasn’t so bad. Sure, Nate was home alone for much of the day, but having admitted to himself how much he cared about Cody had somehow lifted a weight from his shoulders. His dad was working again on Friday, and Nate drove to the grocery store in search of junk food. The roads were clear, thanks to the wind more than rising temperatures, and Nate marveled at the drifts on the western sides of the buildings. Many of them were taller than he was. He spotted a group of kids sledding down a drift from the roof of their garage, laughing in delight even though their cheeks were bright red from the cold. It was almost enough to make him wish he were still a kid.
At the store, he grabbed a six-pack of Coke, some microwave popcorn, and a bag of M&M’s. The cover of Newsweek caught his eye as he stood in the checkout line.
AIDS was printed in huge, block letters. And below that: “How the spreading epidemic will affect health care, government policy, civil liberties and attitudes toward sex.”
Nate’s heart burst into gear. He glanced around, seeing if anybody was watching, before admonishing himself for being stupid. He was only reading a magazine cover, after all. And it wasn’t as if he actually had AIDS, but having finally admitted to himself how much he wanted Cody seemed to have opened up a whole-new, wider world to him. A disease he’d dismissed until now as something that only happened to “them” had suddenly become something that might happen to him. And he hadn’t forgotten Cody’s question in the field about whether or not it could be spread with oral sex.
“You ready?” the man at the register asked.
“Yeah.” Nate grabbed the magazine and placed on the checkout stand with the soda, candy, and popcorn.
The cashier eyed it skeptically, then turned his gaze on Nate, as if asking a question.
“It’s for a research paper.” Nate hated the way his hands shook as he reached for his wallet. He shouldn’t have to justify something so simple as buying a magazine.
“Serves them all right if they die, if you ask me,” the man said as he started ringing up the groceries.
Nate did his best to ignore him, but he wondered, as he gathered his groceries and headed for his car, if he looked guilty.
Back at home, he settled on the couch to read. The article was scary, but depressingly uninformative. “By 1991 an estimated 5 million Americans may be carrying the AIDS virus.” The article talked a great deal about how the disease that many had assumed was confined to homosexuals and intravenous drug users was sure to sweep through the heterosexual population next. It was estimated that sixty percent of the heroin addicts in New York State were infected, and the idea of those people carrying the virus back home, to their presumably straight wives and girlfriends, or to prostitutes, had experts predicting an outright epidemic. But other than suggesting more care in selecting sexual partners and encouraging the use of condoms, there was very little practical information.
Could it be spread by a blowjob? Nate still had no idea.
He wanted to talk to Cody about it, but how could he, after the way he’d acted?
This week, he’d do better. This week, he’d make himself walk up to Cody and apologize.
That was easy to say when he was home alone, but by Saturday, Nate’s resolve was fading. Come Monday, he’d be right back where he’d been before the dance, trying to avoid at least half the people in the school while longing for the one person who wanted nothing to do with him. He found himself dwelling on that moment at the dance, replaying the scene over and over again—Logan putting his arm around Cody’s shoulders and kissing the top of his head.