My Life After Now - By Jessica Verdi Page 0,41
“How are you feeling?”
“Right now?” I asked.
“Yeah. Right now, at this point in time, how are you feeling?”
“I’m feeling…a little cold, maybe, and sort of nervous. But other than that, totally fine.” I paused briefly, thinking. “You know, that’s what I’m having the hardest time with, I think. That the only reason I even know I have this disease at all is because someone told me I did. But I don’t feel it. I feel perfectly normal. If it’s really as bad as everyone says it is, shouldn’t I feel something?”
“Why question it, though? Why not just be grateful that you don’t feel any pain or illness?” she countered.
I shrugged. “I am grateful for that, I guess. But still, it feels wrong. I can’t explain it.”
“No, I get what you mean,” another lady said. I thought I remembered her introducing herself as Shelly. Or was it Sally? “It’s like, if you have cancer or heart disease or something, you know it. You probably got diagnosed in the first place because of your symptoms. But HIV is like this silent, deadly thing inside you.”
“No, that’s only how it is in the beginning. Just wait. It gets worse,” a thin man with dry lips said.
“I know. It gets a lot worse,” I said, remembering the photographs. “That’s the point. This healthy-feeling time now just feels like a tease. Like I’m in this holding pattern, flying in smooth circles within sight of the airport, in super-comfortable first class. But I can’t enjoy the in-flight movie or free chocolate chip cookies because I know that before the airport is able to make room for us, the plane is going to run out of fuel, and we’re going to crash-land into a fiery, agonizing death.”
The basement was completely silent.
“What?” I said.
“Wow,” Shelly/Sally breathed. “That’s exactly it. Are you a writer or something?”
I shook my head. “I’m an actor.”
• • •
After the meeting, I met my dads outside the church.
“How’d it go?” Papa asked.
“It was okay, I guess. I ‘shared’ this time.” I emphasized “shared” so he would know it wasn’t my word.
“That’s great, honey!” he said, giving me a one-armed hug as we began to walk down the street.
“We’re so proud of you,” Dad said, putting his arm around me too.
“Lucy!”
We all turned. Roxie was hurrying in our direction.
“Um, Dad, Papa, this is Roxie,” I said awkwardly when she reached us. “Roxie runs the meeting.”
I could tell they were surprised by her age, but they all shook hands and made their hellos. Roxie didn’t even blink when I introduced the two men in front of her as my parents.
“You said you’re an actor, right?” she asked, turning her attention back to me.
“Yeah. Why?”
“Well, I work for NYU. I’m just an admin, but if I work there for over a year I’ll get free tuition. I mean, I’ll have to get accepted first, and who knows if they’d even look twice at my GED, but my SAT scores are pretty good—”
“Um, Roxie?” I cut her off.
“Sorry. So they’re holding auditions tomorrow for their new ad campaign. It’s going to be huge—print ads, TV commercials, all kinds of fancy stuff. Mucho dinero. You’re totally the look they’re looking for—I know because I’m the one who’s been setting up all the audition appointments. I can probably get you in if you wanna come tomorrow.”
“Wow, really?” That sounded like exactly the distraction I needed. Just the prospect of getting to act in front of people who weren’t members of my own drama club had me instantly feeling more whole. “Yes, I definitely want to come.”
“Hold on a second, Lu. Aren’t you forgetting something?” Papa said.
Oh right. My first doctor’s appointment. “Can’t we reschedule?” I begged.
“Not a chance. You know what it took to get this appointment.” The office had been completely booked up for the next two months, but Papa, hot-shot lawyer that he was, called in a few favors and managed to get me in for Saturday morning.
The wind left my sails. “Thanks anyway, Roxie, but I have to go to the doctor tomorrow.”
“What time is your appointment?” she asked.
“Ten-thirty a.m.”
“Oh, that’s perfect. You can come to the audition after. I’ll be there till four.”
“Really?”
“Oh, totally. Give me your number, and I’ll text you all the details.”
We swapped phones and put our numbers into each other’s contact lists.
“So, I guess I’ll see you tomorrow then,” I said.
“Awesome! See you tomorrow!”
22
Tear Me Down
“Fill these out,” the lady behind the desk said, handing me a clipboard with about twenty double-sided