My Life After Now - By Jessica Verdi Page 0,69

“Come with me.”

I coaxed the lighting team out of the light booth and shuffled Max and Courtney inside. We were alone. No chance of anyone overhearing. But that meant there was also nowhere to escape to. I’d never been claustrophobic, but I was suddenly feeling trapped.

I took a few long, deep breaths to steady myself, and then got straight to it. I needed to get out of there as soon as possible. “What did Evan tell you?”

“He didn’t say much. Just that it’s some sort of…medical issue. And that we should ask you to explain the rest,” Max said.

I let out a sigh of relief. A nondescript medical issue. That could mean anything. I could have something totally benign, like hay fever. Or high cholesterol. Or low blood sugar. Yes, that was it! My blood sugar was too low and that was why I’d gotten lightheaded. Evan had just overreacted, he was so sweet—but no. Of course they wouldn’t buy that. It didn’t even make sense.

“I’ve been going through it all over and over in my mind,” Max continued, scratching his head. “You have some sort of medical issue that is too big for Evan to tell us about. And yesterday he acted like your blood was dangerous. The only thing I can think of that makes blood dangerous is AIDS. And I know you don’t have that. So what is it, Lucy?”

I felt like I’d been kicked in the gut. He was so close to the truth, and yet he thought it impossible. How could I possibly confirm a truth so unbearable that he refused to even hypothetically consider it?

I met his gaze, my eyes stinging with tears.

Whatever he saw in my face, it made his own expression solemn. I could see him retracing his words, trying to figure out what he’d said that would have made me cry.

Courtney caught on before Max did. “You don’t…actually have AIDS?”

I looked down and rubbed my eyes hard with the heels of my palms, pushing back the moisture, not caring that I was probably smearing mascara all over my face. When I couldn’t stand the stupefied silence any longer, I swallowed the lump in my throat and turned to Courtney. “Not yet,” I said. “But I will.” If the meds didn’t do their job, anyway.

“HIV?” she whispered so softly that it was barely audible.

I nodded, gulping back the tears that were threatening reappearance. Max sank down to the floor in shock and Courtney just stared at me. I quickly looked away—I didn’t want to see the moment when disgust replaced the disbelief written on their faces.

“How?” I heard Courtney say.

There was no reason not to tell them the rest now. I fixed my gaze on the lighting board, fiddling with the little dials and knobs as I forced the word to pass through my lips. “Lee.”

The gasps of understanding came right away. Even after nearly two months of not speaking, all I had to do was utter one little name, and they understood exactly what I meant.

Just then Andre’s voice came through the speaker system announcing five minutes to places, and the lighting crew started pounding on the door. I wasn’t even in stage makeup or costume yet—it was the perfect excuse to get the hell out of there. I swiftly unlocked the door and let the displaced techies inside. “We have to go,” I muttered, not meeting Max or Courtney’s eyes, and bolted toward the balcony exit.

“What the hell did you do to my lighting board?!” one of the board operators yelled. I ignored him and kept running.

But Courtney and Max’s footsteps pursued me. “Lucy, wait!” Courtney called out.

I pretended not to hear.

“Lucy! Stop!” she yelled again.

There was something in her voice—something surprisingly authoritative—that made me stop in my tracks.

Here it comes. I held my breath as I braced myself for their hastily devised excuse as to why we couldn’t be friends after all.

But without a sound, they wrapped their arms around me and held me tight. All at once, the walls I’d put up around me collapsed and for several long minutes I was enveloped in warmth, security. It was the best feeling in the entire world.

I could have stayed there all day, but we pulled apart at the sound of, “Places!”

That’s when I saw the tears in their eyes. “Don’t cry,” I said. “Please.”

Max nodded and cleared his throat. “Come on, Luce,” he said, taking my hand, “let’s go put on the best show of our lives.”

The relief that