REAL WORLD: in a scene of famous movie Bohemian Rhapsody, Freddie Mercury is in hospital after his AIDS diagnosis and another ill guy in the waiting room recognizes him.
FANTASY: Andrew’s betrayal is obvious and Mark Wilson wants to leave him, but something holds him back.
What’s difficult to tell
“This bond is unbreakable, by blood and soul!” I felt joy in Andrew’s voice, something very difficult to understand and explain. What was he telling me?
“Andy, look me in the eye! Spit it out! Do you have AIDS?” I blurted out to the couch arm, immediately cringing. How could he be so happy, so casual about a deadly disease? It was completely inappropriate to confront him like that. I was the one in the wrong, totally influenced by Ray’s crazy ideas.
“The virus is your second soul,” Raymond Still used to say, and a part of me deep down actually believed it! The bully was about to be a doctor, and I was not.
I slammed my head into the couch and sobbed, letting out all the pain I’d been bottling up. “Andy,” I called, my voice raw, “I’ve failed again! Help me!” I had nothing to lose.
I marched over to the closet and pounded on the door. “Andrew, open this damn door! We need to talk!”
The door swung open slowly, revealing Andrew’s cold stare. “Fine,” he said flatly, “I’ll explain.”
Andy glanced one last time at Freddie, cowering in the closet, then joined me on the couch. “I need to talk to you too,” he said, his eyes flickering. “But first, tell me why you’re here. This is unexpected.”
A sick thought crossed my mind. What if Freddie were to get shocked by our washing machine while Andy stood by, paralyzed? I could become like Mark David Chapman, John Lennon’s murderer. “From medical failure to infamous madman,” I mused. “Revenge and notoriety in one go.”
“Andy,” I stood, my voice trembling, “something terrible has happened. My destiny is sealed.”
Silently, he pulled me into a powerful, almost desperate embrace, but I didn’t move. My lover’s warmth, once comforting, now filled me with disgust. I couldn’t bring myself to reciprocate.
My arms hung limp at my sides, my gaze fixed on nothing. I lacked the strength to pull away from the man who had so recently been with someone else. “I’m here for you,” he said, offering a weak smile. It was as if my mere presence had lifted a huge weight from his shoulders.
“You see Mark, we’re forever bonded from now on! It’s confirmed!”
“What… what do you mean, Andrew?” I cleared my throat again, “what are you talking about?” I held back a tear. I couldn’t afford to show weakness now. Not with my rival still hiding in the shadows of my own home.
“Wait, Mark!” He grabbed my hand, his grip tight. “Look at me when I speak to you. I want the truth. Don’t tell me Raymond did it!”
“I tried, but…” I stammered, “I did everything I could but Ray…”
“That bastard!” Andy pushed me away. “You shouldn’t have done this to me, Mark!”
“I did all my best,” I sobbed, “but we both know he’s got connections.”
“Don’t play the victim,” he snapped. “You’re just as bad.”
“Stop it!” I yelled, not caring if Freddie still in the closet could hear us arguing. “That stupid test failed!”
“Life goes on,” he said, his voice filled with relief. “I’m connected to Freddie, you are linked to Ray. Let’s move on. Deal?”
“Damn it, Andy!” I shouted. “Ray had a positive outcome and I didn’t!”
“Thank God,” he sighed. “I found out yesterday. I’m positive and proud.”
He pulled me into an embrace but this time I hugged him back, unable to hide my conflicted feelings.
We surrendered to the moment, wrapped in each other’s arms on the sofa, just as we did during our old times. Overwhelmed by exhaustion, we closed our eyes, finding relief in one another’s embrace.
I had barely drifted off when I was roused by the faint sound of footsteps and the distant slam of our front door. But before I could fully awaken, Andrew’s fingers gently covered my eyes. “Sleep, my love,” he whispered, his voice calming me down. “It was only a bad dream. Don’t worry, I’m here.”
Love and madness
Dawn broke and I was the first to open my eyes. Moving with the utmost care not to disturb Andrew, I slipped from the couch, a hopeful smile playing on my lips. I would prepare his breakfast, just as we had in the early days, and our lives would return to their familiar rhythm.
It had been nothing more than a twisted nightmare, a product of my own paranoia. As my eyes scanned the room, I found the reassurance I craved: no trace of Freddie remained. The laundry hamper in the closet was empty, and into it, I cast the clothes that had been witnesses to my delusional journey.
Yet, when I returned to the kitchen, there was Andy frantically scrubbing the sink! Two dirty plates stared back at me, a stark reminder that I hadn’t dined with him.
“So, Andy,” I said as I poured myself a cup of hot milk, eager to kill my suspicions once and forever. “Tell me about your exam. Positive outcome on what?”
He offered me a knowing smile and took a bite of a biscuit, his silence as heavy as a shroud. “Tell me you are the new Arthur Conan Doyle! I’m proud of you, Andrew!”
“Look, Mark,” he replied nonchalantly, “my positive test has nothing to do with writing. It’s something much more…”
His voice trailed off, his words caught in his throat. “What a writer you are,” I tried to joke, attempting to lighten the mood. “You can’t even explain what’s happened?”
“Something much more intimate,” he continued, his gaze locked on mine. There was a tranquility in his eyes that made me feel superfluous, a newfound light that I had never seen before.
“Freddie and I, we’re forever linked as of yesterday, and we’ve celebrated. You hear me?”
I refused to understand. With that smile, my boyfriend couldn’t possibly be referring to such a devastating disease. “I hope not,” I pleaded. “Tell me it’s not what I think!”
Andy walked around the table and leaned his hands on my shoulders, a gesture that had always meant an important revelation, but now felt menacing.
“Freddie, my Gifter, gave it to me.” His voice was heavy, his words laced with a solemn reverence that chilled me to the bone. “And I don’t regret a single moment of it! Now he and I are intertwined by blood, and no one can destroy this bond, not even you!”
Everything started to make sense: their knowing glances at Queen’s Wembley concert, our house’s rent always paid, but most of all, my recurring nightmares where Freddie mocked me, calling me a cuckold.
“You,” I screamed, kicking his chair. “Has it been a deliberate infection? Have I understood it right?”
“Mark, you can’t understand,” he replied coldly. “My Gifter and I have a deep connection…”
“How dare you speak like that,” I interrupted, shouting. “The bastard who infected you is now what, a benefactor?”
“There’s something more between him and me, a biological and spiritual bond you could never…”
Without thinking twice, I lunged at him and grabbed him by his neck: “I can do anything,” anger now driving me as I tightened my grip; “it’s over for both of you now!”
Andy coughed violently and tried to free himself with his hands, but I continued to squeeze, completely out of control. “Stop,” he pleaded in a weak voice, his eyes wide and fixed on mine. A piercing, painful gaze in which I saw my own reflection: I was accusing Freddie of hurting Andrew while behaving worse?
“How insane you are,” I collapsed to my knees, unable to even look at him. “You brought this disease into our home, you betrayed me in our bed, and now what do you expect?”
“I’m sorry,” he murmured, moving closer to me. “Freddie gave me what you never could…”
“You definitely lost your mind,” I sighed. “This is a toxic relationship and you call it love? You’ve destroyed everything, Andy! Everything!”
“It’s your fault! All about your control freak,” he turned his back to me. “Your insecurities, your calculations, I have enough of it all! Freddie has taught me what trust is. Real one. I don’t love you anymore, Mark, it’s all over!”
“You’ll realize it when it’s too late,” I had nothing left to lose and gave in to tears. “When you’re on your deathbed, don’t call me!”
“I’m immortal now,” he retorted with a disarming calmness. “The virus is our second soul! If Freddie dies, his life will continue inside my body. And vice versa.”
“Fuck you,” I screamed, and with tears in my eyes, I ran out, slamming the door. Away from Andrew, away from his betrayal, and away from his sick vision of love.
“I’m immortal,” those words still echoed in my ears as I descended the stairs that separated me from recent past. I reached the street and a gust of cold wind penetrated my clothes, forcing me to quicken my pace.
I walked aimlessly for minutes, maybe hours, the voices of passersby merging into a single chorus in my mind: “I don’t love you anymore, it’s over… I’m immortal…” Andy’s words sounded sinister until a song from an open shop brought me back to happier times for a moment:
You’re my heart, you’re my soul
I’ll be holding you forever
stay with you together
Modern Talking. A song that had accompanied Andy and me during our relationship’s first months and now took on a different meaning. “Maybe he’s right,” I thought as dozens of people and cars passed by without even noticing me. “Maybe I really don’t understand.”
Awareness
Since Andrew and I had broken up, my life had become a monotonous routine. I was no longer in a place I could call home and had to settle for a squalid room in a motel that had, perhaps out of pity, agreed to hire me.
Hours passed as I cleaned one room after another, picking up all sorts of trash and eating leftovers; the smell of existences as squalid as mine mingled with that of the manager: he was the one who guaranteed my fixed salary, and to get a tip at the end of the day I had to stay in his office for a few hours, certainly not to talk about work.
“Go to bed, little sissy,” he’d toss me a measly tip and a slap on the ass, then, throwing the used condom in the bin, he’d order me to get out without so much as a thank you.
Trapped in my room, a desolate cell, I found myself adrift in a sea of my own thoughts. Hearing other people having fun in other rooms only served to highlight my loneliness.
“You’re my soul, second soul,” I hummed, reimagining the lyrics of Modern Talking. It was a mantra, a way to cope, but as I repeated it, I felt a shift within myself. A transformation. The virus was no longer a threat; it was gradually becoming a part of me.
Over time, chasing HIV became my mission and I started spending my meager salary wandering from bar to bar, seeking out risky encounters. Strangers, one after the other, used me as a plaything, oblivious to my name or my story. And that was fine by me; I didn’t care about their bodies, I wanted their souls, that’s what I told myself to justify sinking deeper and deeper. But the results were always the same: negative. It seemed even HIV was rejecting me.
Inside clubs and the sexual health clinic, however, I was also lucky enough to make friends with guys in my same condition: some of them even knew Freddie and Andrew!
“You know, Mark,” said Leo, a stranger who just handed me a drink. He was high on something, probably. But like always, I didn’t care.
“Lucky you if you meet Freddie,” he mumbled. “That man doesn’t do anything by chance and if he chooses you, your life will change for the better!”
“Cut back on the smokes, dude,” I smiled, tossing my glass aside. “I’m out of here.”
“Another drink?” he offered, but I waved him off and left.
Freddie. That name again. It was like a ghost, haunting me. “Andy wasn’t the only one,” I thought, bitter. Why him and not me?
Goodbye, Andrew!
“Finally,” the manager said, his eyes narrowing. “You’re late.”
I stepped into his office expecting our usual routine, but his expression was dark. “Sorry, boss. I was with friends.”
“Sit,” he replied, pointing to the chair. “We need to talk.” And I obeyed with no questions, feeling a weight in my chest.
I didn’t like the look in his eyes, nor the tone of his voice, it was also strange that no condoms had come out of his bag yet.
He dabbed at his eyes with a tissue, and I stared at him in shock. Tears? The motel’s alpha male was crying?
“My brother passed away,” he said, holding back sobs, “and I thought you should know.”
So I wasn’t just his plaything? I meant something to him, but he didn’t want to admit it? “I’m so sorry,” I said. “Is there anything I can do?”
That sudden intimacy felt strange to me, considering he’d treated me like dirt until just moments ago.
“He’s not… Well, he’s not my biological brother,” he continued, and I fell silent. Where was he going with this?
“You see, Mark, I’m talking about Andrew Jones. My brother. I know you two were close.”
“How, what do you mean he passed… away?” Shock prevented me from forming coherent sentences. “I haven’t spoken to him in months.”
“AIDS,” my boss said. “It didn’t give him a chance. He and I were family. You understand what I mean?”
“Heart, soul,” the words tumbled out, confused. “The second soul… Does Freddie have anything to do with this?”
He nodded slowly: “Yes, boy. Andy Jones was a descendant of Gifter Freddie. Just like me.”
“I can’t believe it… You too, Sir? What are you saying!”
“We’re deeply connected,” he smiled proudly. “Gifter Freddie is the man closest to me, the biological father I chose for myself.”
He settled into the chair opposite me and looked at me, as if studying me; “and you, Mark, what do you think you’re going to do now that you know everything?”
I took a deep breath and opened my eyes wide, as if trying to shake off a bad dream. I had been drinking, true, but not enough to cloud my mind.
“Mark, are you there?” he asked again, looking down at me. “Tell me what you want to do, because I don’t have that much time to waste with worthless people like you.”
“You’re my soul, second soul,” I thought, as the modified Modern Talking song pounded in my head, over and over.
“Augustus, Gus,” I used his first name, hoping to break through his wall of indifference. But my words seemed to echo in the empty room.
“Mr. Taylor,” I blushed and looked away. “I’m not sure how to put this, but now that Andrew’s gone, I really would like to…“
“You talk about his funeral? It’s done and gone,” my boss stated flatly. “It was for family only, and you, as you know, aren’t one of us.”
Realizing I had nothing to earn or lose, I stood up and faced him. “From now on, you take off that condom when you’re with me,” I said, my voice steady. “Let me join your family, Gifter Gus.”
He paused for a moment, his expression blank, then let out a crude laugh. “That’s not how this works, man,” he said, avoiding my gaze. “You negative folks don’t get to choose! And my first conversion sure as hell won’t be you, you worthless piece of trash.”
That stupid nickname I’d been stuck with since I was a kid! The whole town knew it, of course, and there was nothing I could do.
“If you want the virus, go see him,” Mr. Taylor handed me a business card; “With all folks coming here back and forth, my strain could have evolved into something different. Better to go to the source, trust me.”
I examined the card carefully: “Freddie M.” and an address with a phone number.
My mind raced with a thousand thoughts: Freddie was to blame for everything, he was the one who’d killed Andrew, and I was going to get my revenge somehow.
“He’s a celebrity,” I turned to Gus, flipping the card between my fingers; “Can I tell him you sent me? You’re all in the same family, right?”
“Over my dead body!” Mr. Taylor yelled, killing all my hopes in an instant. “And don’t you dare go there as Mark Wilson. Change your look and name, do whatever you like at Freddie’s house, and overall forget about HIV. You hear me?”
Any condition could be fine as long as I never worked in that sleazy motel again, so I left Gus’s office without a goodbye. I had to find Freddie, confront him, and this time I would not fail again.
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