“Maybe you can explain it to Jamal. If he loves you, he’ll understand.”
“It’s not that easy, Phyllis. I feel like my body is a booby trap—a time bomb ready to go off. It’s easy if you get a little cold with the sniffle and sneezes. You go to the drugstore, pick up some cold medicine, and in a few days you’re all right. Not so with HIV. Death is what I have to look forward to. I’ll have to take some expensive drugs that I may not be able to afford and sit around and wonder how long and when will it become full-blown AIDS. I can’t live like this.”
“They are making remarkable progress with AIDS research. You’ve got a fighting chance, Sheila.”
They both turned when they heard the door rattle. Without a second thought, Sheila jumped up and scooped the gun off the coffee table. Victor walked into the room in a starched pair of jeans, white shirt, and a blue linen blazer. He was startled to see Phyllis.
Sheila held out the gun, her nostrils flaring.
“Don’t do it, Sheila,” Phyllis begged. “Don’t do it.”
“What’s up with her?” Victor asked Phyllis. “That virus you had has gone to your head.”
“You’ve got that right, Victor Christianson. I have a virus but it hasn’t gone to my head.” Sheila walked closer to Victor, who began to back up.
“Phyllis, what’s wrong with this crazy bitch? I bought her a nice house to stay in, fixed her up with diamonds and pearls, and I can’t come in my own house?”
“You asshole, don’t talk like I’m invisible. I’m standing right here, right in front of you. But you won’t for long because I’m going to sentence you to death like you’ve done to me.”
“What in the hell are you talking about?” Victor roared, with a scowl on his face.
“I’m talking about being HIV positive, you imbecile. I’m talking about my future not being so bright because I might get AIDS. You stand in my face with that cocky look on your face, but that—”
“HIV?” Victor shouted. “You stupid wench.” And before anyone could blink, Victor tried to reach for the gun.
“Don’t do it, Sheila!” Phyllis shouted.
Sheila pulled the trigger. “You animal, you scum of the earth. You don’t deserve to live!” Sheila screamed. Her eyes narrowed as the water from the tears clouded her vision.
Another shot rang out and Victor grabbed at his left arm, his eyes wild with fright and his face pinched by the sudden graze of the bullet. “I’m going to kill you, bitch. You tore my good jacket.” And he lunged.
Phyllis cowered on her knees in a corner of the room, using her hands as a shield as Sheila pulled the trigger again.
Pop, pop, pop. Victor danced to the tune as he dodged the bullets that rained down on him.
“Didn’t you hear me, you sorry, no good for nothing ho? You’ve already killed me. I have HIV. I’m going to die. And to think, I was going to get married this weekend to the love of my life.”
Crouching behind the wall that led into the foyer, Victor suddenly reappeared, stood wild eyed, and stared at Sheila. “Married?”
“Yes, married. I was going to marry the love of my life this weekend. Had I not gotten the blood test, who knows when I would’ve found out about the HIV?”
“Married? And where were you going to live? Hell, how do you know it wasn’t that other nigger that got you infected?”
“I know, and you need to get tested. I wonder what your wife will say when I tell her?”
“You—”
Pop, pop! Either Sheila was a bad shot or Victor had nine lives. Victor danced and ducked, but seemed to dodge the bullets Sheila hurled. Sheila marched forward, until she had Victor cornered. Pop!
“Damn, woman.” Victor grabbed his left arm again, but only for a second as he pulled the door open and stumbled outside.
“Call the po po!” Sheila shouted after Victor as she watched him stagger to the street. “Be glad that the coroner isn’t picking up your ass.” Sheila slammed the door. “Dog blood all over my wall. HIV blood. Damn.”
Sheila dropped the gun on the floor and looked around. The warmth that made the house so beautiful was gone. The candles, the soothing colors of the room, the posh furniture couldn’t heal the wound that had been made. Sheila crossed her arms over her bosom and walked slowly through the living room, then stopped in her tracks as if she