It only took ten minutes. I was nervous the whole time. When I walked in, they gave me two tickets. One was red and the other was blue. They both had numbers printed on them. After the man behind the counter took my information and gave me my “numbers,” he sent me into the waiting room. I crammed myself into a small aero-lounge-style waiting chair. I was incredibly uncomfortable. “The Vagina Monologues” were playing on the television someone had wheeled out against the wall I was facing.
Sam focused on the tickets. The blue one was for a piss test and physical examination. The red was to be given to an HIV counselor, who would analyze his risk of contracting the virus, and then see him to the phlebotomist, who would draw the necessary amount of blood needed to administer the test.
It had been a month now, since the break-in. Helen had played an instrumental role in getting Adam a therapist he felt comfortable with. At first, Adam was resistant. Adam was vehemently against taking drugs. But Helen had managed to persuade him, telling him that he might not have to take medicine, that talking might be enough.
Helen and Sam had pretty much moved in with Macy and Adam. The details of Helen and Macy’s relationship were never released. And it was unclear if the boys had even noticed.
Sam and Macy alternated coming home for lunch every day. Adam seemed more level-headed, and very happy to have the company. But there were still times when he felt alone; usually at the end of the day, when he had become restless and wanted to go out, but Sam had homework, and Macy needed to work on whatever she was working on. They had dinner together every night.
“Have you had unprotected sex?” My HIV counselor was a woman; her name was Veronica. She was reading questions from a list she was holding.
These questions were making me nervous.
“Yes,” I told her.
Veronica checked a box, “How many sexual partners have you had?”
At the end of our interview, Veronica gave me a bag full of condoms. Then she showed me to the vampire. I sat patiently, as the needle pierced the vein in my arm. The latex tube Dracula had tied around my bicep looked like it was about to slip off; he seemed unconcerned. He told me to come back in a week to get the results.