By: Jessie Thomas
Brother Andre Catholic High School

“You might have had the virus for AIDS in your blood for years without knowing it!” exclaimed Mr. Marichino. At this, the entire class jumped in their seats, startled by his words, and the way he had said them. All but one sat in that classroom without flinching, each student too dazzled by their health teacher’s intense lecture. As I sat at the back of the immensely spacious room, my eyes wandered from Mr. Marichino to the tall Caucasian boy across from me who appeared to be the only one distracted from the lesson. In complete surprise I watched Michael as he sat there, fidgeting, and struggled to figure out why he found the topic so tedious. After all, ever since we were in grade school he had dreams of someday becoming a medical doctor, and was forever participating in activities for the sick and dying. I’ve knowing Michael a long time – ever since the age of three – but I’ve never known him to deny the opportunity to learn something about health or science.

For a while I decided not to discuss his unusual behavior, I assumed that Michael was just going through puberty and didn’t want to talk to a girl about it. But as the weeks wore on, Michael’s behavior continued to baffle me. At times, he was nowhere to be found for an entire period, and when he returned, his face was as white as the fresh winter snow on the ground. I hadn’t seen him eat in days and he was beginning to look terribly thin. Nevertheless, when questioned, he simply answered in a cold, solemn tone, “You’re imagining things. I feel absolutely fine.”

As children Michael and I were inseparable. We had met on the very first day of kindergarten, and have been in the same classes every year since then. Some say that we might as well be family, because we know each other’s every move and are hardly seen apart. However, despite our boundless friendship, Michael and I have always been quite the opposite. As kids, Michael’s peers sometimes found it hard to accept our friendship; they bullied and excluded me from being a part of their games, and mistreated me whenever Michael wasn’t around. But Michael was always the intelligent one of the two of us, and nothing got passed him. He made sure that his other friends knew perfectly well that wherever he was, I was allowed to be, and told them that if this weren’t okay with them, he’d be leaving too. That time, Michael promised me that he’d always be there for me, and though it seemed to be merely a child’s words, he hasn’t broken his promise since.

Michael didn’t come to school the following day, so once classes had ended I decided to walk over to his house, expecting to find out he had the common cold. However, I had barely reached the end of his street when the deafening sirens of an ambulance blew past me. Shaken by the sudden thunderous noise, I had fallen backwards on the sidewalk and as I recovered, Mr. And Mrs. Anderson, Michael’s parents, spotted me and pulled me into the car without a word.

The piercing silence in the car was aggravating, and as much as I wanted to believe otherwise, I knew Michael was in that ambulance. I didn’t dare ask how or why, instead I sat quietly, praying that he was all right.

I remember the graduating year of grade school. It was our graduation after-party at the house of the valedictorian, and it was likely to be our final goodbye. That night, before making our way to the party, there was an accident. I don’t remember the commotion, but I woke up in hospital later on to Michael resting in a chair beside my bed, looking hungry and exhausted. Realizing that he had not gone to the party, the first thing I asked was, “What are you doing here?” Michael smiled down at me and simply answered, “You need some rest, go back to sleep. I’ll be here when you wake.” At that very moment, I knew it would be impossible to break the friendship Michael and I shared, and even as we grew older, he still reminded me that on the night of our graduation, he wouldn’t have wanted to be anywhere but where he was – right beside me, as I recovered.

It was my turn to be at his side as he recovered. He would recover… he’s strong, he’ll make it. Thoughts raced through my head as I sat in the crowded waiting room in the hospital, still unaware of what was going on. Surrounded by sickness and sorrow, I gazed around the dull room at the countless people – some crying, some coughing, others sleeping. Finally, a tall slender doctor appeared from a separate room and walked toward the Anderson family. I watched closely, as Mrs. Anderson almost collapsed to the floor after hearing what the doctor had said. Holding his hysterical wife, Mr. Anderson continued to listen to the doctor. Michael’s sister Anna, looking as though she had seen a ghost, walked silently back to her chair where she curled up and began to cry. I walked over to comfort her, trying not to show my fear and vigorous, uncontrollable shaking.
“What… what happened? Anna? Anna what’s wrong with Michael?” I stuttered. But she was too distraught to answer, and I retired from my questions. I comforted Anna, who remained silent for a few hours until she fell asleep. Mr. and Mrs. Anderson had followed the doctor to another room, and had not yet returned. I couldn’t eat, I couldn’t sleep, and I couldn’t talk to Michael. For the first time in my life, I felt completely alone.

Our gender difference had always been a problem to others, especially in high school. Just last year, there had been great conflict between Michael’s new girlfriend and me; she very much disliked the friendship we had and claimed that if Michael really liked her, he would never talk to me again. He told the girl that he had made a decision, and the next morning at school he walked toward me, smiling, saying, “If I like a girl that has a problem with my best friend, we would have had a pretty worthless relationship.”

Once the Andersons had returned, they took me to Michael’s hospital room, and left me with him. I felt my heart drop at the sight – there was Michael, pale, thin, and exhausted, with a weary smile on his face. I fought back an ocean of tears and couldn’t help but throw myself in his lame arms. Then, in a silent, tired voice, he slowly said, “Alainah, there’s something that I haven’t had the courage to tell you in the years that we’ve known each other.” Pausing, he took a deep breath and continued. “Mr. and Mrs. Anderson… they’re not my parents, Lainey. And Anna is not my sister.” Dumbfounded, I sat quietly listening, and watched him. He was breathing heavily, “I’m an adopted child. My parents died when I was very young, and I was sent to an orphanage, where the Andersons rescued me and gave me a life to live. My parents… well, my parents died of AIDS, according to the doctor. They passed the virus on to me… I was born HIV-positive. I’m dying Alainah, and I’ve stopped the medical treatment.”

At his words, I felt my heart shatter into millions of pieces, and I suddenly found it very hard to breathe. It took a moment for me to grasp what Michael had just said, and many questions ran through my mind. Had I heard right… was it really possible? “It’s not true.” I said under my breath.

“Lainey… I’m sorry.”

Michael held me close to him while I cried, as though my tears would fill the sea. And we sat together for hours in a cold hospital room, feeling warm and completely safe; Michael told me that he wasn’t leaving me at all. No, he had promised me that he would never leave me, and he wasn’t going to break that promise. He told me that he loved me, and that I had made his life beautiful. He said to live each day as if I would not last the night, and dream as if I will never wake. Michael promised he’d wait for me, and then, he thanked me. He thanked me for our friendship, which made his life meaningful. And he thanked me for love, because a life without love would have been no life at all.

Michael had been there for me all my life, and now it was my turn. My best friend died peacefully in my arms, but he didn’t leave me. He wasn’t jealous, boastful, conceited, selfish, or resentful. He was just Michael, an angel on earth, and God simply wanted him close.

© Copyright 2008