4.18 - PrEP for Vamps
There’s seven other people in this lobby watching reruns of Jerry Springer and nobody seems bothered by where we are. Every so often the woman at the desk calls someone to go in back. They stay in back for a few minutes and leave like nothing happened.
“Wesley and Kareem,” she calls for us to go back next.
“Why are they calling us back together,” I ask Wesley.
“It’s fine, they just think we’re a couple.”
“Why do they think we’re a couple?”
“Because we look cute together,” Wesley pauses for a moment. “Also, I had to fill out your paperwork and this clinic specializes in LGBTQ care.”
“Follow the yellow brick road,” the nurse comments before we go through the door.
Through the door there actually is a yellow brick road of tiles running down through the hallway. Wesley thinks the whole thing is funny, and actually skipped part of the way until he saw I wasn’t playing along. I imagine the room we’re in is like any doctor’s office. I didn’t have many doctor’s visits as a kid and I’ve never been as an adult so I don’t know what they’re supposed to look like. Wesley hops onto the bed looking thing in the center of the room covered in tracing paper. I choose to sit in a chair off to the side.
“How is this not bothering you? Did you stop taking your meds again,” I ask.
“Why should I be worried? It’s just an HIV test. It’s going to take like 2 minutes. They’ll clean your finger, and prick it for a drop of blood or swab your mouth.” There’s a real stigma about HIV testing but everyone should do it every six months ideally or every time you get a new partner if you’re not in the world like that.”
“I don’t know what stigma means.”
“It’s like a connotation that comes along with something, usually it’s bad.”
“Connotation?”
“It’s an idea, a stereotype basically. People think if you get an HIV test that you already have HIV instead of thinking that you’re being proactive. Proactive means you’re taking care of business before it can become an issue.”
“How are you fellas doing today,” a man in a lab coat walks in.
“Pretty good,” Wesley answers.
“Alright, well I won’t hold you here long. Have you ever done this before?”
“I have,” Wesley answers proudly, “but my friend hasn’t. I told him I’d come along because he was scared. I’m brave like that.”
“What,” I ask but it seems like nobody else heard me.
The man explains the test in detail but I don’t listen. I saw a video on YouTube last night about it. The more interesting thing is the smell of arousal. Both Wesley and they doctor. I’m just here in the middle while they flirt.
“Results will come to your phone in about an hour,” the man shrugs.
“And what about you,” Wesley asks causing the man to laugh.
“I’m leaving,” I hop out of the chair and exit the room.
I can hear the two of them exchanging numbers as I make my way back to the lobby. I return a wave to the woman working the desk as I leave. Outside, Wesley finally catches up to me as I start the car, and scroll through songs to play.
“Were you going to leave me,” Wesley asks as he gets in.
“No but I was going to listen to music and pick a restaurant to eat at.”
Wesley goes on and on switching topics as I drive. First it's about the guy from the clinic, whatever his name is. Then he starts ranting about how bisexuals get a bad name, and they aren't always attracted in a 50-50 split. I don't really care if Wesley likes men and women, or who he likes more. It's none of my business. I just don't want to keep hearing about other guys he thinks are attractive. I don't even know why he thinks we're that close. Now he's back to the guy from the clinic.
"If the two of you would be so much cuter together, why are you with me," I ask as I turn the car off.
"Oh," Wesley's voice goes up a few levels. "Are we together? Am I with you?"
"Shut up. I'm hungry and stop looking for deeper meaning.”
The steakhouse is almost empty, but we take a seat in the back. I can tell Wesley is nervous, and he has good reason to be. It’s owned by an Elf and most of the people who visit are werewolves and vampires. I’m one of the rare day walkers, so he doesn’t need to worry about the place being overrun.
“This stuff is expensive,” Wesley says looking at the menu.
“Just get whatever you want. I’m paying.”
“Really? You’re treating me to a meal,” Wesley seems confused.
“You did save my life, or at least accelerate me getting back to normal.”
“Oh,” is all he says before going back to the menu.
Our orders come back pretty quickly. I ordered two rare steaks. I usually go for medium, but I'm hoping there's a little blood in there to help keep me going. I also got a bottle of blood wine. It won’t do much for me since I’m so deprived of blood, but it’ll numb the pain a little. I can only wonder why a stomach full of HIV blood didn’t help. It might be because I threw up most of it. I don’t remember that part, but Wesley made sure that I knew about it happening. Wesley came to a steakhouse and ordered chicken tenders like a child, and doesn’t even balance it out with a beer or wine.
“I’ve been wanting to ask you something,” Wesley says before taking a big sip of his drink.
“What,” I ask with a mouth full of steak.
“How can you eat regular food?”
“I’m only half vampire so I need blood, and food, and water. Trade off of enjoying sunrise and sunset. Other types of vampires eat food too, like Adze. Others can’t really eat food, so they eat blood treats, or food made of just blood and sometimes a little magic to add taste. I never liked those.”
“There’s different kinds of vampires?”
“Yeah, like three to six depending on who you ask. Some say three types are different breeds of the same species. Primeval, Adze and Talamaur are the only true vampires everyone agrees on. ”
“What kind are you?”
“Dhampir, the mut of a human and a vampire. Basically, a primeval vampire got too horny for a human and I popped out. Not a real vampire according to some people, but two of the thirty-one great vampire houses in the country are controlled by Dhampir.”
“Who controls the rest?”
“Primeval and Talamaur. Adze don’t participate because there’s less of them and to be honest, they’re almost exclusively Black so the other houses were, and still are, pretty racist. I haven’t met any but I’m sure they’ve probably got their own great houses or something similar.”
“Aren’t you half Black? How does that work.”
“Terribly. My father hates Black people, except for me. He wants me to run his little kingdom.”
“So, you come from money.”
“Yeah, but I don’t have any of it because I’m not going to do stupid tricks for my father.”
“Well, this just got tense. See any good movies lately?”
“I like Sonic.”
For some reason, my answer causes Wesley to laugh hard enough that he felt the need to slap the table. He's off his meds for sure. That was the only time I ever saw him so animated. I'm not even sure he stared taking his meds again. I need to check into that. Actually I don't, next time I'll let him kill himself or I'll kill him if he tries anything.
"I'm glad we could become friends," Wesley says sipping from his glass.
"Yeah. We tell each other stuff. You saved my life, I saved yours. You're buying me lunch. We're laughing."
"Is that stuff friends do?”
"I don't think the saving lives part comes up often, but yeah," Wesley chuckles then pauses. "What are your friendships normally like," he asks with a serious face.
"I've never had a friend. A real friend anyway.”
"Well I'm glad to be your first.”
